Denting the 'Do: A Love Story
by Polkahotness
Summary: Hillwood High is a muck with cliques like any other high school- Queen B's, Jocks, Preps, Nerds and even a bully or two to even out the score. In the end, will stereotypes prove stronger than the feelings between a tall-haired jock and the smartest girl in school?
1. Chemistry

_**Hello everybody!**_

 _ **After a few wonderful comments about my 'Gerald voice' in my last story, Spanish 2, I decided to try my hand at a GeraldxPhoebe story that is KIND OF basically my headcanon for how they get together in the first place. (it's one of 2 actually haha)**_

 _ **I am excited about where this story is going and I hope once you read this first chapter, you will be too!**_

 _ **Enjoy!**_

 _ **xoxo**_

 ** _Polkahotness_**

* * *

 **~Phoebe~**

When I was younger, my mother used to tuck me into my bed each night and read to me like any other child readying themselves for sleep. However, instead of fairy-tales about Knights in shining armor rescuing the fair damsel in distress, I was much more interested in how the universe around me worked. At approximately 8 o'clock each night, I'd skim through my large bookcase and pick out textbooks upon textbooks about about atoms, molecules, stars and the universe for my mother to read to me instead. In my mind, I found it much more logical to inform a young girl such as myself about the ways of the world rather than about being 'beautiful' and waiting for someone dashing to come and save her.

While each of my decisions growing up formed the woman I was becoming each day, I found that this particular decision- the choice to be read science spectaculars over dilapidated fiction -was one that I somehow continued to return to. Would it have benefited me to be read the age-old stories passed down from generation to generation in the form of princes and princesses? Could one theorize that tales of false happy endings may have been able to shape me more into a well-rounded human being than factual research?

The thought had not crossed my mind much- if anything, very minimally. It was only at times when I truly felt excluded from the 'society norms' that those thoughts flitted through my mind. They were thoughts of feeling exposed; thoughts that perhaps the young Phoebe who was doe-eyed for each new piece of scientific knowledge had been wrong about how she desired to grow up.

The young Phoebe I once was, firmly believed that the person she wanted to become was smart, knowledgeable; first and foremost nobody's fool. Yet as I stood gathering my books and secretly listening to the conversation a few lockers down from my own, I wondered if those were the only three qualities I wished to posses even at just 17.

Could Phoebe, could _I_ , have been wrong about the person it was I sought to be?

"All I'm saying is the woman CERtainly knows how to wield that feminine charm she's always going on about," Gerald said from where he stood beside Arnold at his locker while they readied themselves for class. "I mean... mm mm MM, Arnold. You should have SEEN what the girl was wearing in Phys Ed today... STUNNING and we were just runnin' around in GYM." He smiled to himself with a thoughtful expression taking over his face. "That Rhonda Wellington Lloyd...she sure knows how to tease a guy. And you KNOW she knows exACTLY what she's doing."

It appeared that Gerald had already prepared himself for their next class as he leaned against the locker next to Arnold's. He maintained his eye contact while raising a brow and waiting for his best friend's response.

"I don't know, Gerald," Arnold said with hesitation while slowly reaching around to close his locker and spin the dial in an effort to prevent possible-theft. "It just seems like a pretty... shallow way to look at women."

"It's not SHALLOW, Arnold. It's an obserVAtion, man."

This amused Arnold and he turned around to face Gerald directly. "What are you? Some kind of observer now?"

"Of sorts. An observer of the female kind, you could say." He wiggled a brow while leaning in to talk in a loud-but-dramatic whisper, "I am a guy afterall- I am but a predator of the jungle that is Hillwood High."

"A predator, huh?" Arnold repeated, the hint of a smile laced in his voice as I couldn't see his face properly.

"Not like THAT, GEEZ Arnold."

"Than what? What DID you mean?"

I found that I was holding my breath for his answer while peeking around the door of my locker. I watched him silently; the air from my lungs suspending inside of me as my eyes searched Gerald over from head to toe.

"I MEANT," he started with considerable emphasis, "that I appreciate a good-looking woman about as much as any OTHER teenage guy my age. It's just what we DO, man."

Arnold shook his head from where he stood before beginning to walk in the direction of the small stairway leading to the 600 wing above. "Not ALL of us are like that, Gerald. Just because you're a teenage guy doesn't mean you have to give in to all of those stereotypes."

Gerald smirked to himself while pushing away from the locker to stand upright and hook his thumbs around the straps of his backpack while following after him. "You only say that because you're under the spell of your OWN girlfriend, man. She DOES things to ya."

This made Arnold chuckle with a slight shake of his head. "Helga does not have a SPELL on me, Gerald. I just think women deserve more respect than-"

With a raise of his hands, Gerald began waving wildly about to stop Arnold mid-sentence. "Hey, hey, hey, man. Don't EVEN. I respect girls. Don't go saying I disrespect girls when I- Gerald Johanssen -DEFINITELY respect the ladies."

Arnold stopped walking beside him just as they approached the stairs and slowly turned around to give Gerald a near defeated look. "You may THINK you're a ladies man, Gerald. But the fact that you're drooling over Rhonda because of what she's wearing just shows you share a lot in common with most other guys our age."

Gerald dropped his arms to his sides before reaching them up to cross tightly over his chest. I watched from the edge of my locker; the door helping to hide my face as I continued to shamelessly eavesdrop. "You tryin' to tell me something here, Arnold? Cause if you ARE, then I suggest you go ahead and SAY it, already."

Arnold paused where he stood and looked his friend over for a moment before shrugging his shoulders. "It's just... I KNOW you, Gerald. And I know you're BETTER than all of that. Don't give in to what everyone else is doing. You've seen first hand what it does to people."

"What? Like you and Pataki?" Gerald asked from where he stood still staring at Arnold remaining stoic by the stairs. "Cause you two are in a league of your OWN."

Arnold chuckled and waved for Gerald to follow after him; his legs quickly beginning to walk as he complied with Arnold's silent request. "I mean REALLY, man," Gerald continued as they at last began their walk up the stairs in route to their next destination. "Your guys' relationship would make for a pretty bomb reality show or something."

"Reality show, Gerald? Really?" Arnold laughed out while their voices began to fade into the backdrop of indistinct conversations buzzing through the crowded hallway. "Who would watch a show about US?"

"All I know is _I_ would watch it, and that's saying enough. I mean look AROU-" at last, Gerald's voice dissipated into the chaos, leaving me to stare after him and Arnold as they fused into the crowds around them.

My eyes lingered on their forms as they succumbed to the vast groups of teenagers huddled in the hallway. Class was mere minutes away from resuming, and most people were well on their way to the next stop in their daily routine of school we encountered each and every day.

However, today was different. Today, I believed, was monumental. Gerald's words and opinions seemed stamped in my head; each one bringing forth thoughts I'd never encountered before when it came to Gerald.

His words, though I'm sure were merely out of context and were not exactly mine to hear in the first place, came across as shallow- something I'd never believed Gerald to be.

It appeared that the feelings (I tried to squash with little luck) that I had for Gerald, could possibly be blinding me to the type of person he could actually be; a thought which sent a waver down my spine and froze me in my place.

Luckily, a triple-tap on my shoulder demanded for attention and as I spun around to see who had been standing behind me, I couldn't help but smile at my good fortune and Helga's seemingly impeccable timing to take me away from my flurry of thoughts.

"Why, hello, Helga," I greeted with a pleasant smile, though Helga did not appear to be fooled by my false countenance.

She raised a brow at me while crossing her arms over her chest. "Yeah, Hi, Pheebs. Mind telling me why you're all oogling after Tall Hair Boy and Arnoldo?"

"I can assure you I wasn't... looking with lust at your boyfriend, Helga. That would be absurd and incredibly-"

"Phoebe." Helga's tone was dry and stopped my talking quite effectively. "It was a JOKE. What's got YOU so jumpy today? Pop quiz gone WRONG or something?"

I held my books tightly to my chest while gently closing my locker door and turning to face Helga as we began to walk towards our history class. "Quite the contrary, actually. In fact, the pop quiz I took today went rather well considering I was only one of three in the class to receive a 100% on it."

Helga nodded her head with a purse of her lips in what appeared like an upside-down smile, though I wouldn't classify it as a frown. "Well, I'm happy for ya, Pheebs. That's great. What class?"

"Advanced Placement Chemistry, of course."

"Ahh... the big ole Chem-dog," She said with heavy sarcasm though she didn't need to put out false enthusiasm per my account. I knew very well that Helga was neither interested in Chemistry nor would want to hear about the subjects I'd taken my pop quiz on. "Glad to hear you're the smartest one of the nerds, Pheebs."

Instead of boring her with trivial facts about the questions listed on the pop quiz, I cleared my throat and said shakily, "Nearly the smartest. One of the other perfect scores in the class could certainly give me a run for my money, you could say," I teased with a small giggle.

This piqued her interest somewhat, though I could still tell she was focused on the people up ahead of us attempting to move out of our way as we walked. "Oh yeah? And who's that?"

"Dillon," his name flew off of my lips and Helga halted where she stood while turning around to face me. "Dillon Lee-Ung." I repeated while this time providing his last name.

Though Helga didn't need it to know who I was talking about. "Dillon, huh? Well I gotta say, it doesn't surPRISE me. He's kinda been obSESSED with being a boy-genius since he started high school last year." She scoffed at the fact, "Cripes, LAST YEAR. The kid is a know-it-all FRESHMAN." She shook her head while grimacing. "He's kind of a freak, don't you think?"

"I don't know," I replied before I could think through what it was I was saying. "Dillon seems like an all-around nice person. We've conversed on a few occasions and he seems perfectly average to me."

"Average? Dillon? I wouldn't tell HIM that," Helga smirked. "It might make him have a nervous BREAKdown or something."

I shook my head softly and looked away from Helga. "It wasn't as if I had plans to. We don't talk very regularly, although, he has been making an effort as of recently."

Helga reached out to grab my shoulder and pull me to a stop so I could look up at her as she glowered down at me. "He's been making an EFFORT? Ha. He's probably just looking for some free tips on being #1 in the class, DOI."

As she let me go so we could proceed to our class, I quietly admitted with mild hesitation, "I'm not so sure, Helga. He's been almost... flirtatious as of late."

This stunned Helga as if the possibility were utterly absurd. "This is DILLON we're talking about, right? Dillon as in, 'I'm so much better than everyone around me because I'm only a wee-little-freshman and in AP EVERYTHING' Dillon?"

"I wouldn't describe him all as that, Helga."

"Why? Because you LIKE him or something?" She accused which somehow made my heart pick up speed in it's beating. "Do I detect a slight desire of the Dillon?" She exclaimed with distaste in her tone.

I sighed softly and shrugged. "He IS one of the smartest people in the school."

"Yeah, okay. But that doesn't mean you two are MEANT for each other or whatever." Helga began to gesture nearly wildly as she continued on her rant. "You need a lot more than just a few similarities- you need FEELINGS. Real, live, actual FEELINGS. You're smart enough to know THAT, though. Right?"

She turned to look at me as we entered the classroom, though I cast my gaze downward in hopes it would be easier to ignore Helga's assumption. "Phoebe?" She called after me as I scurried to my desk and unloaded my necessary items for class once seated.

"Pheebs- you WOULDN'T give that Dillon a second glance, right? If he were to go and 'get smart' and ask you out, you wouldn't go saying YES just cause he's," she changed her tone to that of a mocking high-pitched wail; "'one of the smartest peers in the school?'"

I focused my eyes down on the desk and explored the grooves and cracks in the old wood as it stared up at me. "I wouldn't say I am completely... repulsed by such an idea. We do have a lot in common and share many similar interests such as-"

Helga was taken aback by my response and gave me a demanding glare to cut me off mid-sentence. "You've GOT to be kidding me Pheebs. What did I just SAY? Were you even LISTENING?" This angered her and I'll admit I was slightly stunned by her sudden change in tone- and sudden interest in my romantic life at that.

"What ever happened to Geraldo?" She suddenly questioned; my pulse picking up speed at her nickname for Gerald. "Tall Hair Boy? Remember HIM? You mean to tell ME you're just giving UP on that conquest of the tallest afro known to man? SERIOUSLY?"

"Helga," I whispered while glancing around my surroundings as she hollered in the classroom. "I have to request that you keep your voice down..."

"What? Because I'm WRONG or something? I know you have the hots for him, so why bother with this OTHER dorkwad? Just because he's freaky SMART?" She shook her head angrily and stumbled through more words to say at her disbelief. "He asked you to the dance, didn't he? God, I'm not double-dating with that dweeb!"

"Helga..." I tried through her rant, but she continued on as if she hadn't heard me say her name at all.

"Criminy!" She exclaimed in agitation, "He'll be a complete FUN-sucker, Phoebe! I mean come ON!" She was shaking her head at the idea, then suddenly empowered by her next thoughts which she didn't hesitate to voice as well. "Cripes, I bet he didn't even ASK you, did he? Dillon and his freakishly entitled smarty-pants brain probably just ASSUMED, didn't he? He just FIGURED since you're both SMART and all, that he'd take you to the dance, huh?"

I shook my head quickly while adjusting the glasses resting on the bridge of my nose. "He hasn't... he hasn't asked me or assumed anything, Helga. It's just that I've heard from... various sources, that he indeed has intentions of asking me to the dance this weekend."

Helga sighed and moved to sit on her chair while spinning around in her seat to straddle the back and face me straight on with narrowed eyes. "And just WHO are these various sources? It's not Princess, is it? Because you know underneath all that expensive clothing and caked-on makeup is just-"

I cut her off almost defensively, my tone sharper than I'd intended. "Just a few people, Helga, okay?" Taking a calming breath, I regained control of my emotions and sudden anxiety to begin again. "And like I told you already, it isn't as though he has asked me. Perhaps you're blowing this out of proportion. They might all be incorrect about their gossip."

"And if they're NOT? What happens THEN?"

"Then," I started while thinking through my words very carefully, "I shall weigh the pros and cons before giving him a definitive answer."

"You gonna make him some graphs too, while you're at it?" Helga joked while raising a brow, though I returned her playful expression with a huff and a small frown. "Look, as your BEST FRIEND, I STILL don't see why you keep putting off the Tall Hair Boy thing. You like him- he likes you; the whole thing should be a done DEAL by now."

I watched her for a moment as she waited for a response. At lack of one, she sighed and calmed herself before saying with a slight edge, "You have GOT to know I'd rather double-date with Gerald and all that hair of his over Dillon the Wonder-Nerd and his dilapidated ego ANY day."

At my silence, she sighed and leaned in towards me with encouraging, yet tired, words. "C'mon Pheebs, you two have had eyes for each other almost as long as Arnold and I have. Don't you think it's TIME one of you starts ACTING on those feelings? That's what you always used to tell me- that I should just... get OUT there and TELL him if I felt them... shouldn't you do the same thing?"

I shrugged half-heartedly and set my eyes back down to admire the desk once more; my hand reaching up to trace the cracks in its surface which I'd inspected many times before.

"Helga," I began tentatively, my eyes avoiding hers. "Don't you think it to be rather... odd of me to pursue someone like," I lowered my voice to that of a nearly inaudible whisper, "Gerald?"

Nervously, I glanced up through my eyelashes to Helga who was giving me a dumbfounded look. "You're kidding, right? It's the twenty-first CENTURY, Pheebs. I think the two of you shouldn't be worried about how our community of wack-jobs that IS Hillwood High think of your dating each other. That kind of thing has been-"

Knowing exactly where she was headed, I shook my head and stopped Helga mid-sentence. "No, no, no, nothing like that, Helga. I believe our country has come rather far on the issue of racially diverse partnership in the last few decades; the best example being my own parents. It isn't that which I'm afraid of."

I took a deep breath, my heart somehow fluttering like wings inside of my chest. _Perhaps you should be more... specific._ I told myself before clearing my throat and trying again. "What I suppose I MEANT to say, was, don't you believe it to be strange... the concept of Gerald and I together? I would think our... personalities alone would point towards simple friendship rather than something more."

Helga raised her brow and watched me for a moment as the bell rang; a few stragglers rushing into the classroom in hopes to beat our still absent teacher. "Just because the two of you are kinda different doesn't mean you should go ditching Geraldo for some smarty-show-off-kid who is years younger than you and probably wreaks of baby powder."

"Baby powder?" I questioned quietly, to which Helga responded with a shrug of her shoulders.

"The kid's an infant- he's just a FRESHMAN. I'd think you'd go for...a more RESPECTABLE mature sorts over that egotistical goof."

A smile tugged at my lips as I eyed Helga curiously. "You believe Gerald to be respectable?"

She rolled her eyes and returned a mischievous sort of grin to me. "He's a lot better than doofus Dillon if you ask me. All I'm saying is Gerald is a good guy, and, you didn't hear this from me, alright?" She said suddenly while leaning in and waving a finger for me to follow suit.

"Yes?" I whispered back while my heart continued to thump against my ribs as I leaned in towards her.

"I didn't want to TELL you but since you have this weird notion going on about Dillon you should probably know," She began before clearing her throat and whispering loud enough for me to hear. "A little football-headed birdie MAY or may NOT have told me that Geraldo has plans to ask you to the homecoming dance. Today." She wiggled her brow and leaned back with a proud and smug smile lining her lips while crossing her arms tightly over her chest.

"Helga, you can't be certain just because-"

"I'm dating his best friend?" She finished with a raise of her brow followed by a dramatic eye-roll, "Oh yes I can. Have I ever been WRONG, Pheebs? Ever LIED to you? Hmm?"

I looked up to the ceiling and tapped onto my chin for a moment of considerable thought. "Well, there was the time that you-"

As if anticipating my response, she quickly cut in to clarify, "RECENTLY, Pheebs, alright? Recently, I've been a regular Honest Abe." She said while holding her hand up as if to give a swear to an oath. "I've changed my ways- you know that." At this she smirked and leaned back against her desk again; her smug smile returning to her face. "For the most part that is."

At that moment, our heads shot over to look at the door of the classroom as it flung open to reveal our tardy teacher who was jogging in the direction of his desk at the front of the room.

"Sorry, sorry, everybody," Mr. Darcey said through a shaken laugh as he hurried to prepare himself for class that had already been in session for a few minutes now. "You wouldn't beLIEVE the line at the vending machine, amiright?" He attempted a chuckle although our class was not very receptive to his mediocre joke.

Helga rolled her eyes while slowly turning back around to face Mr. Darcey as he at last began our lesson for the day. However, despite my best efforts, I found that I was unable to keep focus on what it was our teacher was lecturing us about.

 _Could Gerald really be planning on asking me to the homecoming dance?_ I wondered as Mr. Darcey turned to begin scrawling something onto the chalkboard ahead of him. _If he were indeed to ask me such a thing, why would he take such a long time? Homecoming is already this weekend- a mere two days away at that. Could he believe I had already been asked?_ I tapped my pencil on the cover of my binder which held various tests and essays I'd received perfect scores on from this semester alone. _Then of course, if said rumors of Dillon asking me to the dance were indeed true, the same question could easily be posed to HIS motives as well._ I reached my pencil up to rest the eraser on my cheek as my thoughts roamed onward.

 _And yet, the possibility of Gerald asking me to the homecoming dance still remains. If he WERE to ask, should I say yes?_ The immediate answer that sprung into my head was 'absolutely' as it was no secret I'd been harboring feelings for Gerald a while now. The secondary answer, the one that came from deep inside my conscience and better judgment, spoke out then in a quiet voice to myself; the words ringing in my head.

 _After everything I heard today, though I shouldn't have been listening, his words still remain already spoken. His opinions on women seem...vastly different than what I had previously thought._ I chewed on my lip for a brief moment; blood flowing to where my teeth gently bit down onto. _Perhaps Gerald and I are really NOT as compatible as I'd previously believed. Perhaps... perhaps it would not be wise to engage in a relationship with someone who believes such things._

Mr. Darcey drew a single line under what he'd written onto the board and tapped at it twice; the hallow sound pulling me from my thoughts to direct my attention towards him.

"Today," Mr. Darcey said, "we'll be talking about the Civil War and how it shaped our country to what it is today."

A small groan resounded through the room. "Now, now," Mr. Darcey continued through the grumbles, "That's no way to treat our nation's history. It's an important lesson! Annnnd," he said with a smile while pulling out a remote that turned on the projector hanging from the ceiling. "It begins with a movie!"

A handful of heads turned to look at each other with excited grins. Movies, to most of my classmates, entitled them to premature rest in the form of napping on their desktops. While I normally disagreed with such activities during class periods, when the movie began I couldn't help but allow my thoughts to drift away in the form of a mental-nap. It was a nap away from the Civil War and into a dream-like state full of questions, confusion and mild excitement at the news Helga had just confided to me.

Despite it's surprise to me that Gerald actually had plans to ask me to the dance, I had almost expected as much. Gerald and I shared one class together- English Lit and Writing Comp 1, fondly shortened to 4:1 -during our last period. It was there that Gerald and I, to my belief, had grown rather close in regards to our relationship. I considered him to be a close friend, one whom I could tell most anything. And to my knowledge, at least when he was in my vicinity, he seemed to feel relatively the same. Not to mention, similar to how Dillon had been with me this passed week, Gerald had been even more so; in the flirting department that is. These last few days alone had truly begun to feel natural with Gerald; so much so that I found myself anxious each day for the class we shared to begin.

They were feelings... not similarities, but feelings that I had never encountered before. The feelings I felt were the ones I knew Helga had been referring to before class began, I simply did not wish to admit that- because they somehow frightened me.

The lights of the classroom turned off, the solid darkness and adjusting of my eyes waking me up from my thoughts to focus up on the screen being illuminated by the projector. With the click of a mouse, Mr. Darcey began the video as the class settled in for their ritualistic snooze.

Helga turned around to look at me as the music for the video filled the classroom. "Hey, wake me up when this is over, will ya?" She asked through a yawn before twisting back around and laying her head on the desk.

I sighed, my eyes blindly staring ahead at the images as they flashed on the screen. "Of course, Helga," I whispered while at last falling back into that dream-like state of memories from the last conversation I'd had with Gerald. It was a conversation unlike that of the shallow person I'd witness today speaking with Arnold by his locker. THAT conversation had been someone else, I told myself.

The conversation I overheard today was a one which only left me confused and conflicted at it's very content altogether in correspondence with the one Gerald and I had partaken in just the day before.

 _Our teacher had instructed us to work on our research papers- the project I'd been waiting for all semester. Most of Mrs. Calciprazz's assignments had much of a creative element to them, which I'll admit isn't my strong suit. Feelings and inner-thoughts were not my cup of tea, however, the research paper proved to provide me with plenty of opportunities to show off my vast knowledge through it's structure and factual content. I thrived on papers like these. Research papers did well with my book smarts I'd been told many-a-time I possessed._

 _It appeared that I was of the rare variety of 'book smart' people that offered few creative perks with which I could use to 'express myself.' My partner, however, was unlike me in the ways of creativity. My partner was Gerald who, while he didn't enjoy writing short stories or narratives like our teacher often assigned, enjoyed writing things he referred to as, 'sweet riffs' in the form of poetry unlike my friend Helga's._

" _If you give it a cool beat, any lame brain poem can be made into a sweet riff," He said while gesturing to his mechanical pencil before tapping away a rhythm on the desk while slamming the heel of his hand down at the appropriate times. The result was a sort of percussion that could easily fit in with any song that played on the radio these days. In time with his pencil-driven music, Gerald began to recite a poem I recognized from my Recent US History class when we'd studied the jazz era- though Gerald offered a refreshing twist._

" _Because my mouth is wide with laughter_

 _...Andmythroat is deep with soooong_

 _You, you do not think I suffer after_

 _I've held, my pain, so long." He finished with a finalized tap of the top of his pencil and looked over to me with a smile._

" _Minstrel Man, by Langston Hughes," I described with a returned smile. "A very good poem."_

" _You're telling me. They don't WRITE stuff like that anymore. Rhymes like that... they make you FEEL something, ya know?" He gushed while looking down at the tip of his pencil where he lightly tapped on the desk. "I remember when I first heard that poem, in eighth grade? Mm mm MM, it made me THINK, Pheebs- really think about everything my ancestors had been through."_

 _He shook his head while deep in thought for a moment, though a smile burst onto his lips as he looked up and over at me again. "I'm no poetry nut like Pataki or anything, but I feel for a good rhyme or two. Especially when you add in a beat or two."_

 _I nodded my head, my eyes returning to that of the school's laptop screen we were using while in class today. I clicked away at the keyboard typing a few words to add onto our research paper, though paused for a moment to drop my hands from the computer and onto my lap. "Gerald?"_

" _Yeah Pheebs?" He asked while twisting in his desk to face me completely from where he sat at the desk adjacent to my own._

" _Do you ever feel, that at times... you don't fit in?" I pursed my lips realizing I hadn't worded my thoughts properly. I opened my mouth and held it as such waiting for words to at last pass from my lips. "Or rather, that you do not fit in with what society wishes you would be?"_

 _He raised a brow at me, a look usually worn by Helga though donning Gerald's face today as he watched me. "YOU don't think you fit IN?" He repeated._

 _I watched him for a moment, my eyes holding on his before at last breaking away to slowly nod my head as I looked down to my lap. "At times."_

" _Phoebe, you're the smartest person I know- you can't HONESTLY think you don't fit in."_

" _I try to," I said boldly while still avoiding Gerald's eyes. "I try to be like the other girls of my peers; Rhonda, Nadine, even Sheena, but I never quite seem to understand them... not like they understand each other. I'm afraid... I'm not like the rest of them."_

" _And who says you SHOULD be? Man, if_ I _was a girl, which I don't WANT to be but if I WAS, I sure as heck wouldn't wanna be one of them."_

 _Through my eyelashes, I looked up sheepishly to him where he remained seated before me from the open side of his desk. "You wouldn't?"_

" _No WAY, senorita." He said smoothly- a faint blush rising to my cheeks. "Those girls are CRAZY, man, haven't you figured that out by now?" He waited for my response- a small nod and tiny chuckle -which only encouraged him to continue. "It's like that poem, Pheebs, the Minstrel Man. My man Langston knew what was up."_

 _He resumed the tapping of his pencil on the desk like he had minutes ago, the rest of the poem effortlessly coming from his mouth as if he'd done it thousands of times prior._

" _Because my mouth is wide with laughter_

 _You do not hear my cryyy?_

 _Because my feet are gay with dancing_

 _you do, not know, I die."_

" _Mr. Johanssen, don't make me take that pencil away from you again!" Our teacher called to us from where she sat at her desk observing our class as we wrote._

 _Gerald smiled in her direction and lifted up the pencil in the air while giving her a slight nod. "We're cool, Mrs. C- No more pencil, alright?"_

 _Mrs. Calciprazz offered a stern look before returning her gaze to her own computer; Gerald and I once alone to our research papers and current conversation._

" _Phoebe," Gerald began again, my attention once again on him instead of my computer where it should have been. "Those girls just wear masks to fit in with one another. We've ALL got masks on, ya know?"_

" _And this mask- you wear one as well?" I asked, in reference to the hypothetical one he was referring to._

 _Gerald nodded his head with a sad smile lining his lips. "Sometimes. If I have to. But that doesn't change who I AM... ya know?"_

" _And just who is that, prey-tell?"_

 _Gerald stiffened up into a proud stance and popped the collar of his shirt, though it had no tails to pop. "A supah-fly ladies man." He wiggled his brow in my direction as I shook my head._

" _I would sure hope you are more than that, Gerald. You do not seem like the type to go after women who wear masks." I returned my hands up to the keyboard of the laptop, though I typed nothing as Gerald responded in a cool and soft voice that made my hairs stand on end._

" _Oh I don't, baby. I only go for the BEST."_

He'd winked at me, a wink which I'd pretended not to see. Soon after, the bell had rung though we'd hardly made a dent in our paper. It appeared that we would have to put in some extra time on the assignment- something I'd be lying if I claimed didn't excite me in even the slightest.

I often craved more time with Gerald, though I would never admit it to anyone other than Helga. Even then, my feelings usually stayed deep within me where they were safe to roam. Helga was so motivated about 'feelings' yet she didn't understand that they were not as easy to maneuver in my eyes as they were in hers.

For myself, it was easier for such illogical things as 'feelings' to be trapped where they couldn't harm the natural order of things. Feelings were not of science- they were not tangible and thus, they could not be controlled.

I'd learned, through friends and others before me, that feelings had a way with messing up one's life- something I had no intentions of allowing to happen what with college in my near future which I'd been planning for my entire life.

High school was for learning and knowledge; to prepare for college and ultimately careers that we would have the rest of our lives. High school was not meant for such trivial things as dating, relationships and... FEELINGS that could hinder ones potential. Helga may be alright with letting those feelings out to mingle with another's, though I doubted Arnold would ever break Helga's heart. They appeared to be true soul mates (though I did not truly believe in such things) in a way I had never expected. Much to my own chagrin, I at times even... ENVIED their relationship and the organic quality it had. Helga, my very best friend, had found happiness in another who matched her completely. So indeed, what were the chances of myself ALSO finding a match so quickly and in the same place?

It didn't take a star pupil of a probability and statistics class (even though I had been when I'd taken the class last year) to figure out the mathematics behind such a question- the odds were against it and thus, so was I.

Yet the feelings accompanying the thought of Gerald wishing to take me to a dance told me that perhaps I wasn't as adamantly against such an idea after all.

The feelings I was so afraid of told me that maybe it was in fact time for me to take a risk and allow my them out. A simple outing with Gerald wouldn't ruin all of my educational progress towards my collegiate future, would it? Perhaps even a small relationship wouldn't ruin it either- if the outing itself were to go well that is.

As I walked the hallways by myself after History class, I found myself indulging in this thought with excitement. The hope that Helga's secret was true and by the end of the day I'd have a date to our homecoming dance pulsed through my veins as I made my way to my penultimate class of the day.

 _Helga may in fact, be right,_ I thought to myself as I approached the intersection between the 600, 400 and 100 wings across from the lobby of our school where a group of my classmates were standing. _The similarities I have with Dillon are nothing in comparison to my feelings for Gerald... though LOGICAL, going with Dillon- if he DID choose to ask me -would be a mistake if Gerald has had plans to ask me all along._

My eyes caught on Rhonda who was standing at the center of the students in the lobby; her obviously fake laughter filling the foyer. _She is wearing a mask- one with which I needn't wear. Gerald himself said he would not 'go' for someone like that. He indeed was NOT shallow, not when he'd said all of the things he'd told me yesterday. Maybe the conversation this morning had simply been that- his mask. After all, he'd clearly said-_

My thoughts were dashed as the sound of Gerald's rumbling laughter amid the crowd Rhonda was standing in; a few people mingling away to give me a clear view of what was transpiring in their group.

Silently, I watched from where I now stood frozen, their conversation loud enough to drift over in my direction.

"Oh but Gerald," Rhonda cooed with a hand on her hip while the other reached up to run her fingers through her hair. "The way you... bounce that ball around the court is simply diVINE."

Gerald smirked at this while crossing his arms. "You mean- dribbling?"

She snapped her fingers as if she'd only now realized such a word existed for the action she was describing. However, Rhonda was putting on a show- I was well aware, as I'm sure Gerald was too, that Rhonda knew what basketball was and how it was played. Many times growing up she would attend the games we played, so it was not as if she was unfamiliar with the rules and terms.

"Look, Rhonda," Gerald said after a moment and then dropping his hand to his side, "As fun as this has been, I have GOT to get to my next class. And you're just a LITTLE distracting."

I raised my own brow in silent confusion as Rhonda giggled and walked towards Gerald with a sultry look in her perfectly-made-up eyes. "Distracting? I'm curious, are you talking about now or in gym this morning?"

This took Gerald aback, though he didn't falter until Rhonda's spell. "Who says I was looking at YOU, Lloyd?"

Rhonda shook her head and smiled a devilish grin, "It seems only natural, don't you think?"

"Think WHAT, man? The clock is ticking by and I am GONNA be late."

Rhonda took a few more steps closer to Gerald who's eyes seemed to grow larger with each step she took to close the gap between them. In an instant, her reached her arms up to wrap them around Gerald's neck and lean into him; her eyes batting as she looked at him.

Despite my best efforts, my blood began to boil underneath my skin. I stared on in bated breath as I awaited the next words from Rhonda's painted lips. "That we go to the dance together, of course!"

Gerald's eyes widened even further as he stared at her; his gaze leaving her eyes to look her over which further increased the temperature of my blood as it raced through my veins. "You and me? The homecoming dance? Really." He said with a raised brow as his eyes returned to hers.

Rhonda nodded her head and reached up to trace imaginary lines on his cheek with her index finger. "Think about it- I'M the most popular girl in school and shouldn't the most popular girl go to the dance with the most popular boy?"

He appeared to think this over for a moment which was more than enough for me to spin around and immediately travel in the opposite direction. With tears welling in my eyes, I maneuvered my way through the crowd with quiet "excuse me" and "pardon me"s as I weaved through the herds of high schoolers.

 _How could Gerald consider such a request?_ I thought to myself as feelings of hurt and disappointment flooded my system. _How could I have been so foolish as to think Gerald desired someone other than a perfectly contoured and scantily clad young woman such as Rhonda?_ I shook my head as I continued to scurry through the hallway in an attempt to go the roundabout way to my next class.

 _What Rhonda suggested is perhaps true- that it only makes logical sense for the two of them to attend the dance together. Who am I to believe I could change such class-systems and hierarchy? Why SHOULD the most popular boy in school go with the smartest girl? The- how did Helga put it the other day- Queen of the Nerds?_

Her nickname which I had originally laughed at suddenly stabbed me in my abdomen; the pain blinding me to where I was walking. Within moments, my body crashed into another's- the both of us falling to the floor of the hallway as my papers and books I'd been clutching flew in every direction.

"Oh my goodness!" I exclaimed as I tried to collect my things as fast as possible. "I apologize- I wasn't looking where I was going, or rather-"

"It's alright, Phoebe," the familiar voice said while reaching out to hand me one of my textbooks. "Fancy running into you here when I was just searching for you myself."

I glanced up to Dillon and took my book from his hands. "You were looking for me?" I asked while gathering the last of my papers and pushing myself up to stand before him.

"Indeed, I was." He responded with a small smile and I turned around to look back at where I'd came.

Turning back around to face him, I swallowed, took a breath, and then proceeded. "Why were you looking for me?"

"Well you see, I was wondering if you would accompany me to the homecoming dance this weekend." He said very bluntly without a hint of nervousness lacing his voice.

"You wish to take me to the homecoming dance?" I repeated as if the words would explain themselves better when spoken through my lips.

"I believe we would have an excellent time. The two of us appear to have a lot in common which would provide plenty of conversation topics and other such things to bond over while we are there." The words effortlessly left his mouth as if his thoughts were far ahead of his lips in the way of expressing himself.

I stared at him for a while as the warning bell rang through the hallways alarming us to the 5 minutes remaining before class began. _Is this what I am meant to do? Follow the stereotypes and indeed go with the smartest boy in school as I am expected to do?_ Rhonda's words to Gerald replayed in my head; a bitter taste accompanying them in my mouth.

With a purse of my lips, I blinked a few times before at last nodding my head and saying in a squelched voice, "Sure, Dillon. I would be... honored to go with you to the dance this weekend."

A smile tug at his lips though he only nodded before reaching his arm out with an expectant look in his eyes. "Would you like me to walk with you to your next class? We can discuss the pop quiz we both acquired perfect grades on this morning."

I offered a small smile as we began to walk to my next class, though my mind was far away from Dillon's constant talk of molecules and elements and other such things I was not interested in at this very moment. My thoughts were still focused on Gerald and the OTHER conversation I'd over heard which I was not meant to hear, yet again.

All the while, as Dillon and I walked, I couldn't help but wonder just how I would tell Gerald of my date to the dance and ultimately, if it would even matter to him once he knew.

After all, I _was_ just the smartest girl in school pining after the most popular boy- a notion that appeared to be truly foolish indeed.

* * *

 _ **Okay, so maybe this first chapter was in Phoebe's POV, but i promise Gerald is coming up :D**_

 _ **What do you guys think so far? I would love to know!**_

 _ **Please review and follow so you know when the next chapter is posted! I look forward to seeing you there!**_


	2. Stank Eye- 1, Gerald- 0

**~Gerald~**

"Think about it- I'M the most popular girl in school and shouldn't the most popular girl go to the dance with the most popular boy?" Rhonda said while lightly drawing on my cheek with her pointer finger while quite literally HANGING off of me and leaning INto me at the SAME TIME.

I watched her, completely stunned that she REALLY thought this tactic was gonna work on me when I'd told her so many times before that it WASn't happening. _This woman is NUTS if she thinks I am taking HER to the dance._

I KNEW she wanted me to take her. Hell, the entire SCHOOL practically exPECTED me to take her, but I was just not interested. Not this guy. I hadn't been in elementary school, hadn't been in middle school and STILL wasn't even now in high school.

Sure, the girl was attractive- drop dead GORGEOUS if we're gonna be honest here. But that does NOT mean I was about to dive into a relationship with the Queen B of Hillwood High. Not ONLY do I know she would try to change my enTIRE wardrobe- which was mostly basketball jerseys and other sports-related clothing I wasn't willing to give up -but she would go trying to micro-manage the WHOLE relationship which would only benefit her 'public image' and I guess mine as well.

But I wasn't even INto her popularity nonsense- it was a waste of time when I was only IN her clique because I had become Hillwood High's 'jock-of-the-year.' Which, according to THE Rhonda Wellington Lloyd herSELF, that meant we were supposed to be together so our, "popularity could transcend graduating classes for years to come" (her words, NOT mine.)

Like I said, the girl was mad-hot, but that wasn't enough of a reason for me to get involved in that kinda torture. I wasn't about to become Rhonda's lap dog that she toted around showing off to make herSELF look better. THAT was one game I was NOT interested in playing ONE BIT.

I mean, sure, I looked at Rhonda and felt ATTRACTION of some kind or another like any of the OTHER guys in the school. But I didn't have any FEELINGS for her make-upped face and designer shoes. No man, looking at Rhonda was more like... looking at a nice picture on the wall and thinking, "Hey, that's a mighty-fine piece of art right there," but you don't TOUCH it because it's just not THAT worth it. No sense in getting FEELINGS over something that's good to look at but not so much to talk to.

Feelings, as I'd come to learn, are WAY different than the art of attraction; an art which Rhonda had practically monopolized on since 6th grade when everybody started getting the hots for each other.

So FINE, maybe Rhonda was right and I WAS looking at her in gym, but that didn't, by all means, mean that I WANTED her or something. I think I'm allowed to look with absolutely NO INTENTION of touching or cashing in on her idea of the stereotypical 'romance' she had planned for us. The woman had been trying to get us together since we 'rose to the top' of the class food chain a few years back.

It wasn't like I had TRIED to get my way into Rhonda's 'Hillwood Royal Court' like Curly or any of her OTHER adoring followers had. The whole thing kinda just... FELL in my lap and suddenly I was getting invited to all these parties I had to drag my man Arnold along to.

And I say 'drag' because, well, in Rhonda's eyes- Arnold was just not 'cool' anymore, so he was never invited unless he tagged along with me.

So, as you can see, CLEARLY, the woman is CRAZY because my man Arnold is the coolest cat I know. Rhonda had only decided he wasn't cool cause he hooked up with Helga which apparently was 'social suicide.'

But the kid was happy, and I was happy FOR him. I just hoped that one day I could get passed all the 'cool kid' nonsense and find my OWN happiness outside of Rhonda's popularity bubble she'd sucked me into by force all those years ago.

I let out a sigh as I finally returned from my thoughts to peel Rhonda from me and brush off my shirt from her expensive perfume. "You know, as GREAT as a reason I'm sure you THINK that is for us to go to the dance together, I gotta say it's just not enough for me, babe."

She raised a brow, her eyes narrowing in my direction with a sour expression tightly pursed on her lips. "You're turning...me... DOWN?" Her words echoed in the foyer and I merely crossed my arms and smirked.

"Rhonda. You didn't even ASK me, alright? I'm not turning ANYone down as far as I'M concerned." I reached down to grab my backpack which had been sitting at my feet and slung it over my shoulder.

"Rhonda Wellington Lloyd doesn't ASK people to dances, Gerald. They ask HER. And if you were SMART, you'd follow suit." She near-growled in my direction with a delicate cross of her arms.

I shrugged with a small laugh and shook my head. "Then I guess I'm just one of those stupid jocks with no brain, huh?"

"You're going with someone ELSE, aren't you, Johanssen?" She called after me as I turned to walk away from her in the direction of my 6th hour class.

I sighed once more and spun around to begin walking backwards as I said loudly in her direction, "Maybe- I haven't ASKED her yet. But ya know... even if she says NO..." I offered a shrug and a wink before saying, "I think I'll just go solo... Your highness."

With a mock bow, I laughed and turned around once again to begin walking towards Arnold who had been waiting for me at the end of the 100 wing with a grin and a fist out. It was his usual fist that invited me to complete the opposite end of our well-known handshake. "Rhonda bugging you again about the dance?" Arnold asked.

I pounded my fist to his and wiggled my thumb as Rhonda let out a "You'll be SORRY you SAID that, Gerald!" behind us which only made me laugh and look over at Arnold.

"She can't get enough of me, what can I say." I said with a smug shrug of my shoulders and a wicked grin.

"Gerald..." Arnold deadpanned and I rolled my eyes while adding an additional bounce to my step.

"Oh cool it, Arnold. It's RHONDA we're talking about here. The girl'll be over the whole thing in NO time. And besides," I smirked; a sincere smile creeping up on my face. "She'll HAVE to when she sees me there with another date."

We rounded the corner of the hallway and stood outside our classrooms which were conveniently across from each other. "Just make sure you ask her today, or you might not _have_ a date to show for," Arnold warned with a serious look masking his face.

"No worries man, I got this," I encouraged, though the thought of asking Phoebe directly was starting to give me a bad case of the sweats.

"I know you do, but Gerald?"

"Yeah man?" I asked with a cocked brow while leaning against the wall outside my classroom; Arnold across the way standing just outside his own classroom's doorway.

"Don't try to sound... TOO cool, okay?" He said hesitantly and I rolled my eyes.

"Why are YOU so nervous, huh? I'M the one who has to do the asking, shouldn't I be the one worried about my cool-factor?" I crossed my arms as I pushed myself off of the wall to stand straight up.

"It's just that I know you Gerald, and sometimes when you get nervous... you have the-the tendency to-"

"Go on, Arnold, just spit it out already," I said while gesturing with my hand for him to continue.

"Just don't use any of those pickup lines you usually use with her, okay?" Arnold suggested, my brows raising at his unadulterated honesty. "She already likes you so you don't need to impress her... just be yourself."

Nodding my head though not entirely taking in his words, I smiled and waved in his direction. "Will do, man. I'll catch ya when school is out so we can plan the details of- what is SURE to be -the BEST homecoming we have EVER seen." I turned around to head into class as Arnold laughed.

"Sure, Gerald. Seeya later and hey-" I turned to look over my shoulder at him, "Good luck with Phoebe."

I nodded my head and grinned, "Won't need it- I got this in the BAG, my friend." And with that, I entered class as the bell rang.

I wasted the entire class period thinking about what Arnold had said. I wasn't gonna use LINES to ask Phoebe out... not Phoebe. Maybe with other girls they worked but Pheebs- nah- she was different. She was too SMART for that kinda thing to even WORK. So instead of paying attention to my teacher as she talked about Algebra and other such math that I STILL didn't understand, I spent our work time thinking about just how I was gonna ask out the girl I'd been going crazy over for YEARS.

By the time the bell rang and I rushed to my last hour class with high hopes and a LOT of sweat, I was starting to think maybe, just MAYbe, I should have taken Arnold's wish for luck a little more seriously.

* * *

The Stank Eye.  
I myself was familiar with the Stank Eye.

At the ripe age of 17, I'd alREADY been through nearly a DOZEN Stank Eyes of all varieties. A well-executed Stank Eye could pierce the SOUL and make ANYbody question the very basics of their own manhood. Now, while USUALLY such Stank Eyes were just the result of a few bad pickup lines on MY part, THIS one- the Stank Eye Iwas on the other end of today, was of a DIFFERENT variety; one I was not all too familiar with. And while my vast knowledge of Stank Eyes had prepared me for future Stank Eyes I was sure to encounter the rest of my bachelor-ific days, THIS Stank Eye was in a league ALL of it's own.

And I should know.

I was Hillwood's own EXPERT at the species of Stank Eyes. Brothers from ALL PARTS of Hillwood came to me with questions about the nature of the Stank Eyes they'd endured. Even Fuzzy Slippers himSELF had asked me about the spell behind such a power that by now, I could list most Stank Eyes by classification of women who frequented such glares to men of all ages.

There was the Sheila Erickson: who had the tendency to toss her hair back and with the slight tilt of her head, in an approximately 45 degree angle, her Stank Eye would be cast through narrowed slits that were decorated with at LEAST four pairs of false eyelashes and seven shades of eyeshadows.

Then, there was the Anna Marie VanLipen: who had the ADDITIONAL factor of a slight gaping mouth as if in an almost-scoff at your apparent stupidity while Stank-Eyeing you straight on with her seemingly innocent doe-eyes. Seemingly, because underNEATH those eyes burned a fire so strong it made her Stank Eye near LETHAL to the common man.

But NO Stank Eye was as lethal as the Rhonda Wellington Lloyd Stank Eye. Hers was a Stank Eye that was FAMOUS throughout all of our school Districts and even some out of state at that. Her Stank Eye was one to be feared of- a well-rehearsed glare such as hers had the power to cook the very organs inside ones body with even a blink. Rhonda's Stank Eye had reached epic proportions since she first debuted such a look on the playground in grade 5- and she'd been doling it out to unsuspecting innocents ever since.

But even Rhonda Wellington Lloyd couldn't take full credit for the birth of the Stank Eye. Oh no.

The Stank Eye in itself has been passed down from generation to generation of women all across the WORLD; Hillwood being no exception. It seemed that ALL women were in on the secret mystical and magical powers of the Stank Eye which, as legend would have it, could be dated back all the way to the original woman herself- the one we call Lucy -who bestowed the very FIRST (of probably many) Stank Eyes to her OWN man who knew not of what he had done wrong.

And like women, there is a common theme we men ALSO share, and HAVE shared since that very FIRST Stank Eye was created; its the knowledge that we've done SOMETHING wrong... but have no IDEA exactly WHAT that is.

As I sat in Mrs. Caliciprazz's 4:1 class that Thursday afternoon, it became clear to me that the Stank Eye was still very much alive and well- and also not as limited to the usual hosts as I had previously memorized. This time, the Stank Eye had found a NEW victim for it's glaring properties and they were directed in such a side-eyed Stank Eye (the WORST kind, man, the WORST) that the poor, poor fool on the other end, was paralyzed in fear.

That poor, poor fool... mm mm MM. They might as well start on his gravestone now:

Gerald Martin Johanssen

Victim of the Stank Eye

"May he one day realize what he's done."

Okay fine, maybe I'm being a BIT over-dramatic, but what I'm SAYing is the TRUTH, man. I DIDN'T know what I'd done to deserve the look Phoebe was giving me as I sat next to her- but it was a look I DEFINITELY recognized but had never seen myself before because it had never been debuted until THIS VERY MOMENT. I was in uncharted territories and ALL my knowledge of stank-eyes couldn't prepare me for the stankified glare looking my way.

It was none other than the infamous Stank Eye: Phoebe Heyerdahl Edition.

But being the wise man that I was, I bid my sweet time until Mrs. Calciprazz turned her back in pursuit of her desk so we could work on our research papers. Treading carefully, I took a breath and slowly faced my sure-to-be-death that awaited me through Phoebe's secretly stanky side-eyed glare.

"Hey Pheebs-" I began, though was halted INSTANTly as Phoebe slid out of her desk beside me.

"I'm going to retrieve a laptop," she muttered before scurrying away towards the front of the room where our other classmates were gathering around the laptop holder.

I sat with my jaw dropped- my mind left with all the words I had meant to say. I sat staring at her empty desk- halted like the statue of a man victim to Medusa and her legendary stone-turning Stank-Eyed glare herself.

Something was WRONG. Something was very, VERY wrong and it didn't take a genius to figure that out- not that I WAS one ANYway. I hadn't said two WORDS to the girl and she was already running from me... not like Phoebe at ALL.

I watched as she stood among the masses and waited patiently for her turn to grab a computer from the cabinet. As she turned around to walk back to where I was STILL sitting frozen, my mind began to panic at just what I could do to fix whatever I'd done to deserve the wrath of Phoebe Heyerdahl.

 _What WAS that look? What in God's name had I DONE for Phoebe- PHOEBE of ALL people, to gimme a look like THAT? Do I offEND? Do I SMELL or something?_

Quickly (and casually) I tilted my head downward in the direction of my armpit in hopes to catch a whiff of my man-scent: though sweaty, I could still smell that handsome musk I'd applied heavily this morning after 6am basketball practice.

 _Still fresh as a daisy... so what?_ I knew it couldn't be something as shallow as what I was WEARING- I always wore a basketball sweatshirt or jersey and jeans or sweatpants, just like today. And my hair was perfectly coiffed into it's usual 'do so THAT couldn't be it EITHER. My hair was, above all, my BEST feature.

But even so, it wasn't like Pheebs was INto that kinda thing like someone such as RHONDA was. It was one of the things I liked about being around Phoebe- I knew she wasn't JUDGing me like the other girls 'oogling' after me and my top level high school food-chain status. She wasn't into all of the looks and appearances like most teenagers and our hormones told us we wanted. At the end of the day, being around Phoebe was unlike being around anyone else- probably because, to MY knowledge, there wasn't anyone else LIKE Phoebe. Not that I'D met anyway.

No man, Phoebe was one of a kind.

I watched as she turned around with computer in hand and began to make her way back to where I was still sitting dumbfounded and now in a self-induced panic.

Phoebe was so different, it threw me off guard. She WASN'T like the other girls I knew and had dated. She wasn't into all that romantic stuff I studied since I was old enough to KNOW what romance was and how 'the ladies' worked.

But Phoebe didn't WORK like that. She DOESN'T work like that. _Think man,_ I told myself as she grew closer to mewith every step she took in my direction; computer held tightly to her chest.

Y _ou have got to THINK! Did you SAY something? A line you didn't realize you'd used? You couldn't have alREADY messed this all up- class only just started!_ I resisted the urge to shake my head at myself, _No, no, NO, Gerald. You've only said two WORDS to the girl- remember?!_

I racked my brain as Phoebe finally resumed her spot beside me and opened up the laptop; quickly sliding in her flash drive and navigating her way through the screen to find our research paper. With a couple more clicks, she opened up the document and silently began typing away at it- in silence. In EERY silence. In a silence that rarely existed between the two of us since we'd partnered up for this class at the beginning of the semester. I watched her with wide eyes and a cocked brow.

 _WHAT had gotten INTO her?!_

With a deep breath and a LOT of nerve, I decided the ONLY way to answer ANY of my questions was to grow a pair and do some investigating in the only way I knew how: solid determination, a well kept 'cool' composure and a lot of good hair; the 3 foolproof steps to gettin' answers that _Pop Daddy_ had taught me years ago.

"So uh, Pheebs," I tried again though she didn't twitch at my words in the slightest. It was as if I wasn't even THERE. "You're uh... really typing away at that paper, huh?" I managed; internally smacking myself in the forehead.

 _What kinda line is THAT, man? You're BETTER than this!_

The hint of a shrug settled on Phoebe's shoulders as she continued to type without much thought and quietly answered, "I believe that was the assignment, Gerald. To type a well-written research paper is the goal of this particular class period."

I swallowed the growing lump in my throat and nodded my head while trying to ooze confidence. _Keep cool, man. Rule number 2 is to KEEP COOL._

"Right, right, and well-written it will be if YOU'RE the one behind them keys." I winked in her direction though she didn't notice and instead sighed.

"I believe it's behind 'those' keys," she corrected; a sharp edge to her tone that took me aback for a moment.

 _Sassy Phoebe? Mm mm MM. NOT GOOD. This is gonna be harder than I THOUGHT._ I faltered for a moment; struggling to find more words and questions that might bring about an ANSWER to Phoebe's sudden bad vibes I was picking up on. I glanced around the room of partners actively working on their individual papers and huffed to myself before returning my attention to Phoebe.

"You know, this IS supposed to be a partner project," I stated flatly; Phoebe pausing with her fingers on the keys as she listened to what I had to say. "So I CAN help, ya know if you'd just gimme th-"

Immediately, she cut me off with her eyes still glued on the screen ahead of her while she resumed typing and said, "I believe you've done sufficient work for your side of this paper."

My eyes widened before narrowing in her direction with a flame firing itself up in my suddenly defensive soul. "MY side of the paper?" I repeated- the very words taking a hit at my ego. "What like we're some kind of... divorced couple or something? Sharing custody of our paper?"

This made Phoebe smirk and she stopped typing again to answer me, "Gerald, I wasn't under the impression that we were a couple of any sorts, much less a divorced couple with the prior experience of being married to one another. That would require... commitment and-and open mindedness."

"Open mindedness, huh?" I scoffed and shook my head, "Commitment." I leaned back in my chair and crossed my arms over my chest. _What was she GETTING at?_ All my previous women knowledge melted away leaving me confused and completely lost to the spell Phoebe was casting my way. Her eyes bore into mine- a seriousness hinting at the dark brown irises now staring back at me.

 _What?_ I wanted to ask, _What's the DEAL, Pheebs? What did I DO?_ I was BEWILDERED. _I_ was completely and utterly FLOORED by her sudden behavior. Was I that bad of a guy? No- I did NOT believe SO. Was I deSERving of this attitudinal shift and change of events in this here classroom mere MOMENTS before I was to ask her to the dance this weekend? AbsoLUtely not. Yet HERE we were- in a stalemate of stank-eyes locked on each other- Phoebe's assuming comment still lingering in the air.

 _She didn't think we could be a COUPLE, huh? Didn't think WE could be something? ANYthing?_

I pursed my lips and let out a sigh before looking away from Phoebe and saying, "You make it sound like it's imPOSSIble or something..."

"What is impossible?" She asked in a softer voice, her eyes losing some of the intensity they'd previously had.

"Nothing. You've made THAT clear since the bell RANG." I retorted with an edge in my voice and a roll of my eyes.

"What exactly are you hinting at, Gerald?" She asked before stating, "Your animosity is well perceived and -"

"MY animosity?!" I cut her off with a louder voice than I had intended. I leaned in towards her and whispered loudly, "The only one with any aniMOSity around here has been YOU, Pheebs."

"I don't know what you are talking about." She said with little emotion though I could see a glint in her eyes that said otherwise.

"Phoebe. You haven't said a WORD to me."

She shook her head and tapped her fingers mindlessly on the keyboard without typing any actual words. "That is not entirely true. We've been speaking this entire time."

"No, no, no, no, no, Phoebe- no." I said quickly while shaking my hand out in front of me as if to halt her from saying another word. "USUally we talk and joke around and... and have a-a GOOD time. Usually we TALK talk- not this 'your side of the paper' nonsense you're spewing." I frowned as she watched me intently before I said quietly. "It's just that I LIKE talking to you and all and... we haven't done much of the whole... conversing thing- ya know?"

She seemed to think this over, her eyes looking up to the ceiling for a moment like the answer was written up there for only her to read. Her eyes then fluttered down to meet mine in a bashful sort of look, "You like talking with me?" She asked in a small voice that instinctively made the corners of my lips curl up into a smile.

"Well yeah, Pheebs. I love talking to you. I just- I just wanna know what's up." I watched as she chewed on her lip momentarily before turning away from me to face the computer once again.

 _What I would GIVE to get inside that head of hers..._ I thought before Phoebe finally spoke in a voice that was familiar of the one I was used to.

"I suppose I simply have a lot on my mind is all," she explained weakly.

I sat and eyed her for a minute waiting for her to continue. When she didn't, I instead leaned against the desk, twisted my body to face her and gave her a sincere look. "Like what?"

Immediately she shook her head and averted her eyes from mine, "Nothing of great importance."

Taking this as my cue- my one and ONLY cue at THIS point -I inhaled deeply and said with a small smile, "You sure? Cause you know, you can tell your man Gerald anything your heart desires..."

"My heart..." She repeated while furrowing her brow and inspecting my facial expression extensively.

Feeling sorta wigged out by her very determined look in my direction, I glanced around myself and shrugged my shoulders as if to brush off any insecurities I had hanging on my shoulders. With a half-smile, I prepared myself for the lead up to my ultimate question.

"Yes, the heart," I started thoughtfully while looking at her out of the corner of my eye, "the very organ of love. Any troubles you got brewing in there? Feelings a-stewing?"

Turning to finally face her, my expression dropped when I met her eyes which were NEARLY the size of my own. Shakily, but still laced with my own brand of Gerald-Confidence, I went in for the kill. "Any thoughts in that genius and beaUTiful brain of yours about a certain... DANCE coming up this weekend? A dance that could... require a date?"

I wiggled my brow for added affect though the response I got back wasn't exactly the one I'd been HOPING for since I'd decided to ask Phoebe.

"Are you asking because you believe that such a frivolous event as a school dance is at the forefront of my mind?" She snapped at me, my expression drooping to a blank one as I stared at her.

"Huh?" I questioned, though Phoebe continued without hesitation.

"Because I DO believe that as important as a dance might be to you and your... comrades... dances are nothing but tools to further separate us into the stereotypical cliques we have been assigned since day one of the educational process."

Her words made my head spin and as hard as I tried to keep up with what she was saying, I found that I was only getting lost and falling behind. Instead of responding like a NORMAL person, I only watched her silently which appAREntly gave her the idea that she should continue with her rant.

"And furthermore," she said more loudly this time, "having a 'date' to such a dance, is... is..."

"You already have a date?" I blurted out which freaked her out a little because she froze at my question. "Phoebe?" I asked again with a raise of my brow.

She cleared her throat a little, blinked a few times and then nodded her head. "Yes. As a matter of fact, I do."

"But I thought YOU thought dances were..." I tried to rethink all the complicated words Phoebe had just used, but fell short and settled on, "...lame."

A smirk hinted at her lips as she nodded her head once. "Indeed, however, that doesn't mean I will not be partaking in it because, as I previously stated, I most certainly already have a date."

The words cut at my ego; her tone coming across like she was BRAGGING about it or something. Responding immediately, I found that my tone had become really... well... harsh to put it nicely.

"Oh you DO- huh? You already have a DATE, hmm?"

Her eyes narrowed; her small lips tightening into a hard line that could have easily flown off her face and sliced me in HALF where I sat before her. She reached out and grabbed the top of the laptop and slammed it shut- the sound alone making me jump in my desk as my muscles tensed in my body. Sitting straight up, my spine PAINFULLY stiff, I watched as she snatched the laptop off of the desk and held it tightly to her chest.

"Dillon. From my AP Chemistry class," she said matter-of-factly- so MUCH so that I could feel my blood start boiling under my skin. With confidence, and more 'snooty-ness' than I had EVER heard from Phoebe before in my LIFE, she continued with, "AP of course stands for-"

 _OH no. She is NOT acting like I am LESS than her- is she? That I'm some... idiot?!_ My thoughts spiraled as she explained the two stupid letters attached to her stupid smart-people class and I exploded where I sat before her.

"I'm not DUMB, Phoebe," I said with my eyes narrowed in her direction while leaning on my desk to the side as I looked at her. "I may not be in your fancy 'AP Chemistry' class, but I am NOT dumb- alright? I do just FINE without YOUR help or ANYbody's help- got that, MISS Heyerdahl?"

Her cheeks turned beet-red at the formal way I'd just said her name and she frowned slightly while tightly nodding her head. "Just as I do not need your pity in asking me to a dance-"

A laugh I hadn't intended on coming out came from me at a louder-than-average volume, sending Phoebe into a mild state of shock as she stopped mid-sentence.

"You aren't the ONLY one with a DATE ya know," I retorted, my mind screaming at me immediately. _What are you DOING, Gerald? You do NOT have a date, man- what are you TALKing about?!_

"So you DO have a date?" Phoebe asked softly, her words coming out like she was scared of the answer I (once again) gave without thought as it came flying out of my mouth.

"You better believe it- why WOULDN'T I have a date already, hmm?" _Stop TALKING, man! Who are you gonna go with, huh? You do NOT have a DATE!_ The thoughts were screaming in my head- begging me to stop with the lies I was feeding to Phoebe who believed every single one without second thought.

She was believing every. Single. One.

I couldn't believe it. She really thought I was that kinda guy?

"And may I ask who the lucky lady is you will be accompanying to the dance? It wouldn't happen to be Rhonda, would it? As the class suspected?" She was hinting at something and for a SPLIT SECOND, I thought she JUST MIGHT be giving me a way out.

But maybe I WAS dumb like she thought I was.

I mean, I HAD to be considering I let the next series of words fly out of my mouth faster than the last 2 seconds of a basketball game. My words came out faster than a ball free-throwing across the court in a last-ditch effort to win a 26-26 tie like I had last year in the game of the century.

My words came out faster than I EVER could have hoped and I could almost see Arnold shaking his head at me in disappointment. Which he WOULD be when he found out the series of mistakes I'd made today in this, my last hour class and conveniently also my LAST CHANCE to ask the girl I WANTED to take to the dance, out.

"Of COURSE, it's Rhonda. Who ELSE would I be going with, Phoebe? YOU?"

 _Open mouth, insert foot, Gerald._ A buzzer rang through my head signaling the end of it all- the end of that last chance. _You've just lost the game, man._

Phoebe shot up from her desk to stand above me as I remained seated and glowering at her from where I still sat. Despite KNOWING I'd just ROYALLY messed up, I kept huffing and puffing like the game was still going even though I KNEW I'd just lost the whole damn thing. In my head, I heard the crowds booing- hollering at my failure as Phoebe looked down at me with invisible lazers ready to burn me alive.

"How incredibly foolish of me, yes," She shouted, the entire class falling silent as Phoebe continued scolding me like a child. "How could I believe that the very top of the Hillwood Hierarchy would want anything at all to do with me?"

"Phoebe, I-I didn't mean that, I-" I was backtracking; trying DESPERATELY to fix the giant mistake I'd made... with little success.

She cut me off with a lone finger and shook her head. "Save it Gerald Johanssen. I don't need an explanation as I completely understand." She turned around to walk away, Mrs. Calciprazz eyeing her curiously.

"Phoebe, is everything alright?" She asked, my mouth opening to protest thought Phoebe nodded her head.

"Yes, Mrs. Calciprazz. I simply believe that I need some... alone time in the library. May I?" She asked, my head shaking as if that would stop what I'd started.

"Of course, Phoebe, go ahead." Mrs. C's words were laced with confusion. She was as lost as I was where I sat dumbfounded still in my desk.

"Pheebs..." I tried one more time as she went to leave. She spun around at her name to look at me with sad eyes.

"You aren't stupid, Gerald," She said apologetically, "only misguided to believe that such stereotypes are of that much importance."

"I-I don't, Phoebe, let me start over-" She cut me off with a slow shake of her head; the computer still tightly held to her chest.

"It doesn't matter, your intentions have been made perfectly clear." She stood in the doorway for a moment and watched me before looking down at the computer and back up at me with what looked like tears pooling in her eyes. "Meet me at my locker tomorrow to pick up your copy of the paper before class. We will present this as professionals tomorrow." She sniffled and I stood up from my desk as if that would stop her from leaving.

"Phoebe," Was all I managed- it was like her name was the only thing I could get out of my mouth.

"I'll see you tomorrow, Gerald." She finished before finally leaving the classroom altogether.

 _Mm mm MM, man..._ I thought in my head as I slowly returned to sit down in my seat to wait out the last half-hour of class. _What have you DONE?_

* * *

 ** _Sorry for the long wait, folks! This story is just in it's infancy so I've been working the plot NONSTOP. I'm actually on vacation right now so that also has a bit to do with it. I've been busy but not forgetting this lovely fic which i am SO EXCITED to keep working on!_**

 _ **Let me know what you think of this chapter! Predictions? Opinions? Things you enjoyed? Let me know! I wanna hear what you think! Leave me a review!**_

 _ **Seeya next chapter!**_

 _ **xoxo**_

 _ **Polkahotness**_

 _ **(PS- the ever lovely SpectrumBunny has hooked this fic up with an AWESOME cover so click on it to check it out! I'm in love!)**_


	3. The Good, The Bad and Helga G Pataki

"Are you SURE Rhonda isn't gonna stab me in the forehead with a FORK or something if I wear a BLUE shirt with BLACK pants?" I asked while adjusting my collar, my tie, and then reaching up to rub at my neatly trimmed facial hair on my chin.

"I'm not really sure of anything in regards to Rhonda, Gerald," Arnold responded with a laugh while shaking his head from behind me where we stood in his room, "But the blue _does_ kind of look-"

"Look like WHAT, Arnold?" I cut him off while crossing my arms and raising my brow at him. "Because at THIS point, I'm ready to just go to this thing in SWEATS and a JERSEY."

Arnold shook his head before reaching in his pocket to pull out his buzzing cellphone. "Now THAT might make Rhonda-"

"Stab me in the forehead with a fork, I know, man." I shooed at him with a smirk so he could answer the phone while I mindlessly adjusted my tie in front of the mirror through his conversation.

"Hey Helga," He said cheerfully before stopping in immediate silence to listen to whatever it was Helga G. Pataki was hollering from her side of the phone. "Helga, wait- stop. I can come pick you up, I thought that was what we were-" He stopped again and nodded as she continued to yell from her side of the conversation.

Hell, if someone yelled at ME like that- I'd be pulling that phone AWAY from my ear, but my man Arnold just continued to listen quietly; chiming in a response here and there as I inspected myself in the mirror.

"But I thought Phoebe was goi-" pause. The sound of Phoebe's name echoed in my head and I felt myself stiffen up involuntarily. Arnold's reflection glanced my way only to avoid me as soon as I tried to meet his eyes.

Quietly, Arnold said into the phone "Helga, trust me- I understand the situation." He cleared his throat and continued at his regular volume. "I can be there in a few minutes, okay? Gerald is just-"

I spun around and shook my head, "Nah, man, I'll just leave now."

Arnold pulled the phone from his ear, "Gerald you don't have to- really."

"Hey- it's cool, alright? YOU gotta get your woman and I have to get my... well... RHONDA." I shook my head at the realization of the mistakes I've made that led me to this: the sure to be WORST homecoming dance of my natural born LIFE. "She won't... she won't wanna be late." I added for affect even though my voice sounded way more disappointed than I had WANTED it to.

"Sure Gerald," he said calmly with a smile and offered his fist for our handshake. "I'll see you there then?"

Chuckling, I reached out and wagged my thumb to his. "The second I can escape Rhonda, the BETTER, my man."

Muffled hollering came from Arnold's phone again and he quickly brought it back to his ear, "Yes Helga, I'm still here-"

But I wasn't.

I closed Arnold's bedroom door behind me and walked down the familiar steps to make my way to the front door- Phil standing there with a grin.

I bet the old man had been listening the whole time.

"Well, well, don't you look schnazzy. Where's the Shortman?" He asked as I approached him and pointed a thumb back up to Arnold's room where he was probably still listening to Helga.

"Helga has him aTTAched to his phone so I just figured I'd just meet him there," I said with a fake smile while reaching for my coat hanging on the hanger.

"Oh ho ho," Phil laughed to himself while looking up to his room over my shoulder, "those love birds..."

With a single loud and probably insincere-sounding laugh, I pulled my coat on. "LOVE birds, huh? Mm mm MM, Gramps, you have no idEA. Whatever THOSE two have- is not love its... something else." I said with a shake of my head while making my way to the door.

"Love comes in mysterious packages, Gerald- why, look at me and Pookie!" He exclaimed with a big gesture of his arms while with near PERFECT timing, a loud CRASH sounded from the kitchen followed by what could only be described as maniacal laughter filled the house.

I glanced behind him to where the laughing was coming from and rolled my eyes with a smirk. "Sure, Phil. Whatever you say," I said while at LAST leaving the house only to hear Arnold's grandpa call out after me.

"You have a good time, now! And would ya STOP calling me Phil, already?!"

* * *

Fashionably late was ONE thing.

Rhonda's iDEA of 'fashionably late' was another ALL in it's OWN.

It TOOK the girl nearly FORTY FIVE MINUTES before she FINALLY decided to waltz out to the GIANT living room where I'd been sitting and playing games on my phone waiting for her. Granted- whatever it was she DID in that time had her looking... MM.

There is not a WORD to describe it, man.

She was practically GLOWING.

Her eyes were covered in this... sparkly silver sort of color that made her brown eyes seem darker than they usually were. On her cheeks were an equally sparkly pink color that made her look HAPPIER than Rhonda USUally appeared. But her LIPS, man, those lips were the BRIGHTEST red I had ever laid EYES on. For all I knew- she'd spent that entIRE forty five minutes using a marker to color them in like some weird sort of facial-coloring-book.

But her lips were no comparison to the red of the dress she was wearing, which clung tightly to her figure until it dropped off completely just above her knees; revealing her feet which were being held hostage by pointy black high-heeled death traps which nobody has any BUSINESS wearing.

 _HOW do women WALK in those things?!_ I pondered as I stared at her feet with wide-eyes.

But as I combed over her look from the shimmering makeup lining her face down to her perfectly pedicured feet, I couldn't help but wonder what it was PHOEBE looked like on this- the night of our Homecoming dance.

A DANCE which I had planned... or at least THOUGHT I'd be attending with HER and not the made-up practically plastic looking woman glaring at me from where she stood.

"Did you even hear a WORD I said, Gerald?" Rhonda asked dramatically as she tapped her toe (HOW?!) on the marbled floor beneath her.

Blinking a few times to get me out of the TRANCE I had PUT myself in, I cleared my throat and re-focused my attention on the irritated facial expression now covering Rhonda's glittering face.

"Of COURSE I did," I scrambled before smiling smugly and reaching up to adjust the tie around my neck. "You were just telling me how DASHING I look, which I MUST say, you are NOT wrong about."

She rolled her eyes with a scoff, "Quite the contrary, actually, even though you DO seem to clean up...well- you clean up."

I dropped my arms to cross them over my chest and frowned. "And JUST what do you mean by THAT?" I pryed, even Arnold himSELF might have been able to predict her next words of choice.

Eyeballing me up and down, she shook her head once (almost unnoticeable- to the UNtrained EYE that is) and scrunched her nose in almost disgust. "Please, Gerald. You REALLY thought I wouldn't notice that navy blue with those charcoal, and poorly creased, CHURCH pants? Ha. You DO know who you're TALKING to, don't you?"

"Not PHOEBE, THAT's for sure," I mumbled under my breath hoping Rhonda hadn't heard.

"Pardon?" She asked- though it was more of a DEMAND.

I shook my head, "Nothing, Lloyd- you READY now or what?"

She shrugged her shoulders as she walked to the fancy coat-hanger standing beside the giant mansion doors and pulled off a fur shawl-thing to drape over her bare shoulders. "Beauty takes time, Gerald. You would know this if you had a girlfriend... which you don't unless I'm mistaken?"

"Not working, Rhonda. THIS-" I gestured around us "-is a fluke, alright? We are NOT dating."

"That's what you say NOW, but you'll come around. After tonight is over, after we WIN homecoming king and queen, you won't WANT to go back to a life of unpopularity." She seemed SO SURE of herself.

 _MAN! I wish Arnold could SEE this..._ "Desperation is the ONE THING that doesn't look good on you, Lloyd."

"Desperation? Please," She said with a tilt of her chin and a dramatic hair toss, "Wellington-Lloyds are NEVER desperate."

Rhonda walked directly passed me; a wiff of her strong floral perfume filling my nostrils as she strutted out the door being held open by none other than our limo driver for the night who, god bless the poor guy, had been waiting as long as I had.

I sighed and shook my head to myself before following after, ONCE AGAIN wondering just WHAT kind of fresh hell me and my big mouth had gotten into with, her majesty, Rhonda Wellington Lloyd.

* * *

"I can't believe she is giving you _breaks_ ," Arnold said loudly over the bumping bass of some kind of electronified radio smash hit playing on the speakers.

We were roughly an hour into the dance- a third of the way through -and I had only JUST had the chance to escape Rhonda's vice-grip on my arm which PROBABLY had a perfect hand-shaped bruise forming.

"Yeah," I shouted back to him as we stood against the gym wall and watched our classmates bump and grind ALL up on each other in front of us, "S'fine by me, though, man. I didn't even WANNA go with her ANYway."

The words came out harsh and for a SPLIT second I thought Arnold had caught it, but he either igNORED the obvious-edge in my tone or missed it comPLETELY because he continued on without missing a beat.

"So why did you go with her then?" He asked.

"Arnold." I stated flatly as I looked at him with a lack of expression. "You know why I went with her."

"Are you sure it's not because you wanted to make Phoebe jealous?" He questioned as I shook my head and smirked.

"Yeah right- PHOEBE jealous of RHONDA? I think you got that ALL wrong, it's RHONDA who should be jealous of-"

"I don't know, Gerald," He said; effectively cutting me off and smiling under the crazy-colored lights bouncing around the gym. "Girls work differently than us. They get jealous over a lot of things."

"You learn this from Pataki?" I asked while raising a brow in his general direction.

He shrugged his shoulders, "Maybe I just understand women better than you."

I tilted my head back and let out a loud laugh; the idea completely ridICulous. "YOU, Arnold? Understanding women better than ME? Me, man! Gerald Johanssen? Your lady-killing best friend?"

A smile tugged at his lips as Arnold tried to defend himself, "Well," he said confidently, "I AM the one with the girlfriend, Gerald."

I laughed again, Arnold CLEARLY forgetting the DETails of his little ROMANCE. "Man, that doesn't count for ANYthing- it took you nearly a DECADE to figure out the girl had a THING for you!"

His brows furrowed as he looked at me, "I was nine, Gerald-"

With my laughter finally dying down, I rolled my eyes and chuckled, "You can use that as an excuse ALL YOU WANT, brother, but YOU know and I know that without your love guru, YOURS TRULY, you'd be NOWHERE."

A loud scoff sounded from behind me as Helga walked passed me to get to Arnold who was smiling in her direction. "As if you and your tall hair had anything to do with it, Ger _al_ do."

Shaking my head, because I KNEW I wouldn't win with Pataki- nobody ever really does, I cleared my throat. "Great for you to join in, Helga. Not like we were having a personal bro-to-bro conversATION or anything."

"Ha!" She laughed with a roll of her eyes, "Hair Boy over here is gonna be the guy to fix all your problems with Phoebe- I'm SURE." She said as she shook her head and reached around to hook her arm with Arnold's as they stood.

My eyes widened at the mention of Phoebe's name and I quickly took a breath in to try and play it off cooly the way only I can do.

"I don't need Arnold's HELP in fixing things with Phoebe, MS. Pataki."

"Oh really? Cause from MY end of things-" she leaned in slightly as if to inTIMidate me, "kinda sounds like you could use a little assistance," she finished with a grin.

Swallowing hard, because my throat was closing in like some TUNNEL in an Indiana Jones movie, I kept my cool and countered back, "Woman, I got this under control, okay? Once I see her," I snapped my fingers, "just like THAT, I'll have her back under my spell."

Helga watched me for a moment with a sly smile planted on her lips as she slowly shook her head. I glared at her- my eyes trying DESPERATLY to pierce through her gaze only to be locked out by her blue eyes that could PROBABLY shoot LAZERS given the chance. "You really think so, Geraldo?"

"Helga, c'mon," Arnold tried with little success.

Because I wasn't backing down.

Not Gerald Martin Johanssen.

And not against Helga G. Pataki.

"I KNOW so, Pataki," I said firmly; my eyes narrowing in on hers though she didn't even flinch.

"Gerald-" Arnold said sternly, though Helga only cut him off.

"You really REALLY think you know? Hmm? You think you know her better than her BEST FRIEND?" She pressed with a sparkle in her eye like she held the secrets of the world directly in her hands.

"Gerald, don't you think you should-"

But Arnold's words couldn't stop me.

I took a step forward towards Helga as we stared at each other. "Mmmmmmhm," I hummed while my eyes stayed narrowed.

"You seem pretty confident there, Geraldo," her words were laced with something... a tone I couldn't place hiding in her words.

I shrugged my shoulders and backed away from her to where I had originally been standing. "As a matter of fact... I am."

She nodded her head once, "Great," she said simply before chuckling to herself and saying, "Good luck then... you'll need it."

"I'll-?" I half-asked though I knew the answer before it even CAME OUT of Arnold's mouth.

"Hey, Phoebe," he said with a half-smile as I turned around slowly to see none other than Phoebe Heyerdahl and her... DATE... standing just behind me.

"Ph-Pheebs?" I managed through what was probably a squeak.

Avoiding my eyes, Phoebe nodded in my direction and softly stated my name, "Gerald."

I stood, STUNNED, though not particularly from her 'chance' appearance just behind me. I stood STUNNED because Phoebe looked...well... STUNNING.

Phoebe had on a blue dress- a simple dress really when you compare it to RHONDA'S dress of choice -that went JUST to her knees. It reminded me of those old-school black and white shows my Mom watches sometimes with those housewives on it...

Not saying Phoebe looked like a HOUSEWIFE, or anything.

It fit tightly to her frame- a perfect fit -but not so tight that there seemed to be a lot of huffing and puffing and zipper-assistance like Rhonda's looked. Hell, Rhonda's dress was SO form-fitting, I wondered if it was actually just her SKIN and not a DRESS at ALL.

And her hair- it was pulled up like usual in a half-ponytail but there were these tiny little blue flowers tucked away in her black and curled hair like they had fluttered there themSELVES as if Mother Nature PERSONALLY picked them for her and on THIS occasion.

Her face wasn't overly-made-up. A light sparkle twinkled in the disco-lights from her cheeks and her eyes looked like a hint of blue eyeshadow to match her dress had been dusted onto her by ACCIDENT or something.

You see, the DIFFERENCE between Rhonda and Phoebe was that Rhonda looked GORGEOUS in the way one of those Barbie dolls Timberly used to play with is: plastic perfection painted onto a blank face screwed on a hollow body.

But PHOEBE looked... Phoebe looked BEAUTIFUL in the way that a woman looks beautiful- mature and natural and... and...

My thoughts jumbled together inside my head as I stared at her from where she stood quietly- her eyes STILL averting from mine.

Phoebe was like the time a few years back when Arnold and I went fishing with Phil and I stayed up until sunset because the colors all went together so well in the sky like a PAINTING that just... showed up by itself. Like a painting that painted itSELF. Like beauty in its purest form or something.

Plastic versus Natural.

Gorgeous versus Beautiful.

Made-Up versus Make-up.

I couldn't hate myself any more than I did in that moment- the moment I realized that maybe... just maybe... I had gotten it ALL WRONG because as I looked between Phoebe and her date-who-shall-not-be-named, I couldn't help but see how... RIGHT they looked together.

Like... a couple.

 _Man, I can only HOPE Rhonda and I don't look like... like..._

 _Like WHAT, Gerald?_ I asked myself, afraid of the answer, _Natural, together?_

Just as I was about to open my mouth, a shrill voice rang out over the thumping of the music and equally loud thumping of my heart inside my chest.

"Break's UP, Johanssen!" Rhonda reminded (very loudly) and I shut my eyes with a clench of my jaw as I silently BEGGED myself to wake up from the NIGHTMARE I was living.

"Hey Geraldo," Helga called out to me, "isn't that your date stomping over here?"

With a snap of my head I turned back around to GLARE at Helga harder than I ever had before in ALL my years of knowing her.

Helga had ALWAYS been evil.

Alright, alright, maybe not EVIL but the girl was in to RUIN LIVES and while SOME-HOW she made ARNOLD'S life better... everyone else was still VICTIM to her and her evil (and slightly crazy) schemes and- best friend to her boyfriend or NOT- that still included ME.

She KNEW Phoebe had been standing RIGHT BEHIND ME.

She had seen it ALL before it even HAPPENED.

Helga could have WARNED a brother.

Helga could have STOPPED me from making an ASS of myself.

But NO.

Helga let it ALL HAPPEN.

Helga egged me ON, even with those lazer eyes of hers.

Helga G. Pataki had set me up and now I was STRANDED in the middle of a jam-packed GYMNASIUM with my BEST FRIEND, his BULLY girlfriend locked around his arm, RHONDA coming at me (at impressive speed for such tall and pointy shoes, might I add), and the girl I had been PINing after since GRADE FOUR with her smarty-pants know-it-all, boring, date... THING... standing next to her.

Oh yeah... and ME standing BLINDLY in the middle of it all.

 _Mm mm MM,_ I thought to myself as I stood frozen in place, _THIS is going to be a loooooong dance_.

* * *

 _ **Hey guys!**_

 _ **I'm sorry for posting SO LATE, but a LOT has been going on in my neck of the woods! Still, no excuse and I plan to keep updating so don't give up on this story yet!**_

 _ **This chapter is short because the next chapter is going to be a BIT complicated and a part-two to this chapter, so i just thought I'd break it up a bit ;)**_

 _ **Let me know what you think! I'm anxious for your reviews, my loves!**_

 _ **xox**_

 _ **Polkahotness**_


	4. Status Quos and Missed Chances

"Sooooo," I said, elongating my o's as if the time it gave me would help me think of a good icebreaker to save my sorry ass. "Good weather for a dance, huh?"

 _Smooooth, Gerald, really smooth. Aren't you supposed to be the KING of that or something?_

"D-definitely," Phoebe stuttered out. "I'd say the weather was precise about the predictions for today's outcast."

"I beg to differ," Phoebe's snoozefest date bothered to say, " per the forecast today, they anticipated a barometer reading of ... And todays happened to be ... quite the unexpected change, but otherwise I suppose it's accuracy was—"

"Oh my GOD, Gerald, I just locked in at LEAST three more votes from those dorkwads over...oh," she said suddenly realizing she was around human beings without her sense of manipulatory bitchcraft. "Arnold and Helga, aw, couple of the...something, and Phoebe, wow, you came to a dance? I'm really quite surprised."

Reaching up, I slapped my forehead into my palm, what is better known as a facepalm, and shook my head in near physical pain at Rhonda's grand entrance.

"Of course she's here, Rhonda. She uh, she has a uh...a date," I swallowed the words I forced out while glaring at he-who-shall-not-be-named.

"Oh well good for you," she mock empathized rather than acted any bit excited, "Gerald, might I speak with you for just a teensy second?"

Without bothering to wait for my "no" she grabbed my arm and yanked me away from my friends and some whack job 'date.'

"WHAT are you doing with them? Getting VOTES I'd hope," Rhonda shot at me but with a cross of my arms, I avoided her machine gun eyes.

"Well I don't know about you, but I'm sure MY friends will vote for me. I don't DO campaigns, got it?" I stated while trying to walk away but Rhonda' s hand was quick to snatch me back.

"Oh no no no you don't Gerald Johanssen. You see these?" She held up a roll of decorated, shiny stickers with our names on them. "TONIGHT, you WILL be 'doing campaigns,' Mr. Businessman."

Glancing at her skeptically, she shook her head and started over. "Look, I know you wanted to go with Phoebe, odd but still, this vote is like, like the golden globes of high school, alright?"

"The wha-" I started but she wagged my question away with her polished finger.

"The precourse to prom IS homecoming and if we don't secure this then," she began to laugh an unhappy giggle, "then we don't stand a CHANCE for prom king and queen. Got it?"

"But Rhonda-"

"Sell It! Now! We only have 20 more minutes until announcements so just, hold on to those pesky feelings of yours until LATER. Now go!"

So what did I do?

I went. Just like the good puppy dog I was.

For the next twenty minutes, I lapped around like a sorry horse not really trying for that race I'm supposed to win cause my owner has cold hard cash on me.

I handed out stickers

I rallied Rhonda's campaign

But it was all I could do not to watch Phoebe and her stick in the mud dance along to the mad grooves the DJ was throwing out.

It was just all too much.

And why was I doing it? For RHONDA of all people? That was the question of the day that I still couldn't figure out as I watched Phoebe share multiple dances with her _date._ It was like no matter where I went in the stinkin' room they were right there and I couldn't help but stare each and every time.

I didn't want to be here with Rhonda, that's for sure. I didn't want to spend my evening running around for her just to get some stupid votes that meant nothing to me, but no matter what I did, I couldn't seem to stop doing her bidding like the perfect little pet I was acting as.

I was a mess.

And Arnold could see it.

"Almost time for the big vote, Gerald," he said as he came up to me, "you ready?"

"Ready to get this NIGHT over with, yeah. I'm telling ya, Arnold, this whole Rhonda thing was the worst Idea I've ever had." I said with a sigh before leaning up against the punch table and shaking my head. "If I'd just been a man and asked Phoebe out in the first place like I'd WANTED to I wouldn't BE in this position, now would I, Arnold?"

"No," Arnold replied bluntly, "you probably wouldn't."

"Thanks for the support, man," I said with heavy sarcasm while glaring his way and he sighed while shoving his hands deep into his pockets.

"Look," he started, "you can either go and try to get a dance with Phoebe, which honestly shouldn't be that hard because Helga was complaining about Phoebe carrying on about how frustrating Dillon is just minutes ago, or you can sit here and wait to do more of Rhonda's campaign chores. Those are the only two options you have."

"Oh yeah? I could just walk out, how about that Mr. Smart Guy? What then?" I countered, Arnold lowering his brow and looking at me with a deadpan expression.

"Then you'd have to deal with all of this on Monday and those days suck anyway so why make it worse?"

Damn.

He had a point.

"Fine, but I'm sure she's just gonna turn me down again," I said while scratching at my sideburns and sighing. "It's apparently what she does and what I'm good for."

"Gerald…"

"What, look at me! I look like a freakin' nightmare. I am WAY overdressed and honestly, I look like I should be at a funeral, okay? _I_ wouldn't even dance with me, man. So why is Phoebe going to?" I asked while pushing myself off of the ledge of the table and then standing straight with my arms at my sides. "I'll go over there, okay? But first you gotta tell me, do you think tha—"

"Alright, alright ladies and gentlemen," the DJ called out over the speakers; thwarting the finishing of my sentence. "How about we get our Homecoming King and Queen nominees up here so we can get this crowning down to business!"

The crowd erupted in applause as spotlights came up to try and find those of us 'lucky' folk nominated for this joke of an award. With a frown and a roll of my eyes, I turned around from Arnold and made my way up to the stage to stand before my peers in our boy-girl line up.

"Okay, now who's ready to meet your new homecoming Kind and Queen?" The DJ upped his voice in preparation for the cheering crowd who were DEFINITELY too ready for this whole crowning deal.

I felt like I was going to throw up.

"For our crowning this year, each of our nominees have been given a box and inside this box is a balloon. When opened, whomever is the winning king's balloon is will release a red balloon. Then, all the men will pop their balloons and whichever balloon bursts into confetti is our reigning homecoming queen. Are we ready to open our boxes ladies?"

I glanced at Rhonda who I was standing behind while she sat ahead of me with a pageant smile plastered on her perfectly made-up face.

"Allllllright ladies, go ahead and open up your boxes!" The DJ said and I watched as Rhonda opened her box with care along with all the other women up on the stage. Without a doubt, balloons erupted from their boxes with long strings attatching them to the bottom of the box with tape.

And, of course, the red balloon wasn't with any of the other nominees.

No, the red balloon was sitting on Rhonda's lap, a beaming smile coming from Rhonda herself who knew just what she was in store for.

I gulped the growing orange in my throat and offered a cheesy smile to the audience now screaming for my win. And amidst the crowd it was her face I could see, Phoebe's, looking on with disappointment masked in excitement which stung me to my very core.

It was like my worst nightmare coming true before my very eyes.

"Gerald Johanssen! Congratulations to our new Homecoming King!" He announced, though his words bounced off of me in a foggy blur that I couldn't clear up.

I felt something top my head and I realized they had put a crown up on top of me and I felt heat radiate up to my cheeks where I stood.

"Okay, now," the DJ said with a whisper to his tone as if sharing some grand secret to the entire school, "gentlemen, if you would please pop your balloons with the pin your lady has, let's meet our new homecoming queen."

Shakily, I took the pin from Rhonda and approached the balloon with its sharp tip. With a pop, the balloon released its confetti raining down on Rhonda who I think was both laughing and crying that something had ruined her hair.

I felt nothing. I felt nothing as the crowd cheered for Rhonda and I, the reigning couple. I felt nothing as they crowned her and she stood up to reach for my hand and pull me to the front of the stage. I felt nothing as Rhonda leaned up to kiss me on the cheek and I felt nothing as I saw Phoebe whisper to Dillon before they pushed through the crowd to the exit sign of the room.

The only thing I FELT was sick at the thought of dancing with Rhonda in front of everyone. It wasn't what I wanted and it certainly didn't feel RIGHT. What felt RIGHT was being with Phoebe who had already jumped ship the way I'd wanted to just minutes before this fiasco began.

I wanted to scream. I wanted to call out to Phoebe and the DJ and stop all of this so I could win her back, but instead I stood frozen on the stage as the lights lowered and a slow song began- the slow song of the end of my day that I'd originally hoped would be with Phoebe, not Rhonda Wellington Lloyd.

And yet there I was, dancing the dance of a winner who felt more like a loser with each passing verse.

* * *

Mondays were the slowest days of the week and this Monday proved to be no different. I found myself waiting and waiting for my class with Phoebe in hopes that I could talk to her after my win of homecoming king.

But with each step I made down the stupid hallway, someone new was congratulating me on my win and I was ready to scream at everyone to take the honor theirselves if they were so proud of it because I didn't want it.

I just wanted a second chance with Phoebe, not some stupid title in a yearbook I won't look at years from now.

By the time our weekly 'Monday Reading Time' rolled around, I was ready to rip my hair off of my head one strand by a time for each person who congratulated me; everyone in our English class… except Phoebe Heyerdahl.

"Psst, Pheebs," I whispered from where I sat on the floor just feet away from her as she remained in her desk. "Phoebe, hey," I tried again, though she was quick to shush me and returned to her book.

I was in deep doo doo if I couldn't get her to talk to me, and this time I was not kidding.

"Phoebe!" I stage whispered which followed with a few angry looks from everyone around me, this time including Phoebe herself.

"What, Gerald?" She finally responded before looking both ways around herself and then returning to glance at me before looking straight at her book again. "It's reading time."

"So you're not gonna talk to me?" I whispered back and she shook her head in response with a small frown.

"Not during reading time, no," she said and our teacher spoke up from her desk to tell everyone to 'remain quiet as this is reading time' nonsense she was always spewing.

Rather than spending the rest of the period reading, I found myself reading the same sentence over and over with thoughts of Phoebe dancing with Dillon still roaming wild in my brain.

It took everything I had not to grab her right then and there as the bell rang to talk some sense into her, so instead of doing that, I followed her to her locker like the stalker I was becoming.

 _Geez,_ I found myself thinking before I parked myself in front of Phoebe's locker, _going all Helga Pataki on Phoebe isn't gonna solve ANYTHING._ But there I stood, eager and impatient to finally tell Phoebe what I'd been working up to saying all day.

"What is it, Gerald?" Phoebe asked while slightly pushing me away from her locker so she could open it and deposit her books.

"I wanna talk to you about the dance the other day," I said quickly, the words flying off of my tongue as I spoke.

"Ahh, the dance," she said with a flat tone before closing her locker and walking in the other direction from me; me skipping along up to her as fast as I could. "Congratulations on winning homecoming king."

"Phoebe, c'mon, not you too…"

" _With_ Rhonda," she added with a tone I couldn't quite peg and then frowned again. "What is it you want exactly, Gerald."

"I want another chance with you, Pheebs," I admitted and she stopped in the hallway facing away from me before finally turning around with a blank expression coating her face.

"What chance are you talking about?"

"Like with Dillon, only me."

She pursed her lips and turned back around to continue walking as I tried to catch up. "Things with Dillon didn't exactly turn out well," she said and I smiled while finally catching up to her.

"So you'll give me a chance?" I asked hopefully but her face didn't change, giving me a bad sign.

"Look, Gerald, you're charming and sweet but you belong with people who are into the same thing as you are… into all of that popularity and social status."

I looked at her with a frown before shaking my head in confusion. "Wh-what do you mean?"

"I mean," she said with a sigh before turning to face me and stopping completely. "I mean that perhaps you should stick with the status quo and natural order of things, Gerald. It's what's best," she said before running off to her class to leave me in the hallway as the warning bell rang.

That was it. That was all I was going to get.

Or was it?

* * *

 _ **Thanks for staying true to this story, guys! I'm back at it again and will be updating this story more regularily. hope you enjoyed this chapter! Please review!**_

 _ **-Polka**_


	5. Feelings, Emotions, Ideas and Rhythm

"Gerald…"

"What?"

"Gerald, you can't."

"I can too. Where in the hell does it say I can't?"

"Common sense maybe? You can't just become a genius overnight."

"With your help I can, don't you think?" I asked while Arnold sat on his couch and watched me with suspicious eyes. "What? You don't think I can? YOU, man? Really?"

"That's not it, Gerald," he said carefully before treading my waters with caution. "It's just that I don't think there's enough time to do what you're suggesting, even if we stayed up all night."

"Then we'll stay up all night," I agreed quickly without much care to what else Arnold had said. "Man, c'mon, I'll do anything, please… just-just help me, okay?"

Arnold sighed and looked away from me to glance over at his shelf full of books before returning his glance at me and shaking his head. "Fine. All night, okay? We'll get you knowledgeable in some of the things that Phoebe is into and we'll take it from there. Just let me text Helga, okay?"

"Pataki?" I questioned while crossing my arms and giving Arnold a crooked look. "And just why would you ask for Helga G. Pataki's help?"

Arnold laughed before looking down at his phone and typing in whatever question he had for Helga that was so important. "Look, who knows more about Phoebe than anyone? Helga, right?"

Pursing my lips, I inhaled deeply before letting it out loudly and looking away from Arnold. "Right, but—"

"So," he said over me, not allowing my sentence to be finished, "I'm asking Helga for her help so I can help you. That too much for your ego, Gerald?" he asked with a raised brow and I frowned.

"That woman is having a mad effect on you, that's for sure," I commented before Arnold smirked and shook his head.

"You just don't want Helga's help because you're too proud to admit she knows more about Phoebe and how to get her on a date than you do," Arnold explained to me with a half-smile and a wiggle of his brow in my direction.

"I do NOT need Helga's help winning Phoebe, man—"

"Really?" He cut me off again while setting his phone down on the night-side table beside the couch. "Because it kinda seems like you do, Gerald."

"Arnold…"

"Gerald…"

We stared at each other for a long moment before I let go of the breath I was unknowingly holding and sighed. "FINE, okay, Arnold? FINE. Ask Helga but don't go running around when I'm married telling everyone about this little hiccup in my smooth-talking, smooth-sailing, woman-picking-up, stud-muffin—"

"Okay, okay, I won't tell, but I can't promise about Helga…" His voice trailed off before I glared at him and he chuckled. "I'm kidding, Gerald. It's just asking for a little help, okay? Helga and I, we got your back."

"Mmmmmhm," I hummed with a skeptical look, "Sure you do," I said before we began our tyrannical night of stuffing even more information into my head and magnificent 'do so I could impress the only girl I was after.

Not Rhonda.

Not some chick.

But Phoebe Heyerdahl.

And I was ready to do anything.

* * *

English couldn't come soon enough. I found myself watching every tick of the stinkin' clock in anticipation for my test of just how much Arnold and I crammed in the night before.

Would it be enough?

Would she talk to me?

Would she care if I wore red basketball sneakers with my black and navy combo?

W-wait, WHY was I worrying about that, ANYway? This was PHOEBE we were talking about here, not some jersey-despising, sneaker-hating, prestigious Wellington Lloyd.

Heck, talking with Phoebe should be a CAKE-WALK compared to the hell I'd been through with Rhonda on homecoming night.

So why couldn't I start the whole conversatin' part?

Probably because my tongue was twisted in 18 knots; 3 of which were fatal if in the right condition.

And THIS right here, was the right condition.

Once English class arrived, I was already sweating bullets and forgotten 90% of what Arnold and I had studied within the blink of an eye. The bell rang, I rushed to my seat beside Phoebe, and I took a solid breath of invisible encouragement.

 _You GOT this, man, remember that. This is the test and you have studied your nuts off for, so, go in there, get OUT there and say what you gotta say to snag Phoebe's heart!_

Pep talks were sort of an art of mine.

"Heya Pheebs," I started with cheer and offered her a smile, though she barely nodded my way.

"Hello Gerald. Congratulations on your win this weekend at the homecoming dance," she said with slight distaste in her tone.

 _Really? THAT's how we gotta start this?_

I tried to take a deep breath and nodded a few times while digesting her comment. "Y-yeah, yeah, it's really not a big deal, you know. All these high school titles and whatnot."

"Mm," she hummed while opening her English textbook, "quite the contrary, I believe. Titles as such vary on their level of helping us onto our paths after high school as a win such as Homecoming King will prove to open many doors for you on college applications, among other things."

"Such as?" I pried though her answer made me wish I hadn't.

"Sororities of many variations. Fraternities for you of course. There's no doubt in my mind that you would fit into one quite well."

 _Ouch, not what I was going for,_ I thought while chewing on the inside of my lip for a moment. I hadn't really been looking forward to being some frat boy and I sure as heck knew that wasn't the place for me. I mean, sure, a house full of guys sounds much more manageable than housing with a chick, but it wasn't like that for me.

All those parties they are known for holding and the upkeep of being someone in a fraternity wasn't exactly my gig and I really had thought Phoebe knew that.

But with my 'big win' under my belt, I supposed I looked like that was the kinda thing I was into, even if it wasn't.

And as appealing as the idea sounded from afar, I still definitely wasn't that kinda guy.

But how was I supposed to get Phoebe to see that?

"Frats aren't really my thing, ya see," I started with a shrug of my shoulders. "I'm a much more intellectual fool than a big-man-on-campus yutz."

"A yutz?" She repeated with a slight smirk. "Be careful, Gerald. You're almost beginning to sound like Helga."

"Better Helga than Rhonda," I blurted out before pursing my lips, shaking my head and then glancing down at the textbook I hadn't even bothered to open.

Mrs. Calciprazz still wasn't in the room, so our classmates continued to talk— and Phoebe and I were no exception.

"I see," she said softly while absentmindedly flipping through pages of the textbook, "things didn't work out between the King and Queen of Hillwood High."

It was an insult from the tongue of an angel. A hit from the blow of a gun that took my breath away. She was mocking me, and NObody mocks Gerald Johanssen. Not even the smartest of our class, Phoebe Heyerdahl.

It seemed our cliques were beginning to run themselves through our own bodies, and I knew the time was rearing its ugly head to prove the smarts I claimed to have.

"You gotta problem talking to me or something? Because of some stupid award that I didn't even want to win?" I asked angrily, my feelings unable to gain control of themselves.

"Not at all, your majesty," she continued while still staring downward and away from me. "In fact, I'd much prefer to talk with you over Dillon. At least you understand the concept of 'fun.'"

"Nope," I denied, trying to show her I could be a stick-in-the-mud too; a smart, intellectual, nobody's king, sorta dude. "I may know how to have fun, but smart fun. Logical fun. One could say I have it all going on upstairs," I said while pointing to the tip top of my 'do and smiling a winning smile.

Phoebe didn't even acknowledge it.

"I'm not sure I know what you're implying, your majesty."

"Oh c'mon," I said exasperated, "would you stop calling me that? I'm so much more than some stupid jock with dreams of prom king and every other king in-between."

Phoebe blinked her eyes a few times before sighing and looking up at last from her book to look at me. "And just who are you, Gerald Johanssen?"

"Sorry, sorry, sorry," Mrs. Calciprazz announced as she entered the room with a spilling cup of joe. "I didn't mean to keep you kids waiting but the coffee machine was backed up and we all know what I'm like without my coffee, isn't that right?"

A few laughs broke out among my fellow classmates; my eyes remaining locked on Phoebe in a world of our own as they did so.

"Just gimme a chance to prove you wrong, Pheebs," I whispered through the laughter, Phoebe blushing and shaking her head with a sad smile.

"Prove me wrong," she whispered almost to herself while returning her nose to the textbook ahead of her.

It was almost a challenge.

"Let me take you to a movie tonight, just you and me," I said again, as Mrs. Calciprazz began writing something on the board before the room—a page number to begin our reading assignment on poetry, no doubt.

"I don't know if that's the wisest idea, Gerald," she responded softly so as not to get Mrs. C in a big fit about talking in class about non-related topics.

"And why not?" I asked further, though Mrs. C was quick to interrupt.

"Poetry," she began while underlining the word she'd written on the board beside the page numbers. "What _is_ poetry?"

Phoebe's arm shot straight up in the air and answered as she'd been asked to. "It is the feelings one feels inside written out in the form of various different poetry styles."

"Yes," Mrs. C said with an elongated 'e' in the middle of her word, "but wouldn't that just be a story? What makes poetry different?"

"Those feelings, Mrs. C," I said from beside Phoebe who was staring at me now, "poetry is about the rhythm and feel of them. The ideas behind them and the desire they invoke."

Mrs. Caliprazz's eyes widened slightly as she smiled in my direction. "Nice to see you showed up for class ready today, Mr. Johanssen, or should I say—"

 _Please, don't…_

"—our newest Homecoming King."

 _Dammit, already. Was that all I WAS anymore?_

I smiled awkwardly as Phoebe frowned beside me and returned to her textbook. "I had that answer, you know," she muttered under her breath and I was starting to second guess my plan like Arnold had all along.

But we'd GOTTEN advice from Helga. This was a SURE THING if I could just get this right and impress her.

"So Poetry," Mrs. C continued as I watched Phoebe pretend to read a poem from her book, "is a combination of two things—feelings and rhythm –almost like a sort of song and dance. They go hand in hand."

 _HA! They go hand in hand. Even our ANSWERS were meant to be together. So what more did Phoebe need to hear before she knew I wanted her to be my girl more than any stupid award, title, or honor?_

"Now, does anybody know WHY we study poetry?"

"To become in touch with those feelings and or ideas?" I added input and Mrs. C pointed to me with a grin before nodding her head and turning around to write something else on the board.

"Feelings, ideas, emotions and rhythm, my friends. That is why. They all go together like a clique of sorts within our writing community."

 _Oh no, not the clique thing again…_

"But unlike cliques—"

 _Yes?_

"—they are not mutually exclusive. ALL writing includes emotions, feelings, ideas and rhythm to be a success, correct? So WHY am I teaching this topic none of you are interested in. Phoebe?"

She shook her head as if trying to come back to terms of reality before answering, "I-I'm sorry, what was that?"

I spoke up for her and said quickly, "so we can better understand how to communicate those ideas and stuff to other people, even ourselves," I said while staring at phoebe with a cocked brow and an intense stare.

"Bingo," Mrs. C said with a wide smile illuminating her face at my answer; Phoebe looking up to glance at me in surprise before looking at the names written on the board ahead of her. "As you can see, I've written some names up here. William Shakespeare, Edgar Allen Poe, Emily Dickenson, Robert Frost, Sylvia Plath, and some other names you might not even recognize. What we're going to do is break up into groups and study the emotions, feelings, ideas and rhythm of each specialized poet. Lucky for you, your partners are once again sitting just beside you—"

 _Yes, ma'am!_ I thought while looking at a slightly confused and somewhat disappointed Phoebe.

"—And since Gerald and Phoebe happen to be having quite the conversation about poetry, why don't you two choose your poet first."

"Edgar Allen Poe," we both said in unison before looking at each other and back to the board again in quiet embarrassment.

"Great and sound choice, you two. Your poem is on page 244; Annabel Lee, a love poem."

Oohs and ahhs erupted throughout the classroom and Phoebe's cheeks immediately grew a bright shade of pink as I could feel warmth radiate from up my toes and into my stomach now wild with butterflies.

A love poem? With Phoebe? Arnold would be flipping his lid at this point if he were with Helga. So why wasn't I ready to flip mine? I was nervous, sure, but I was ready. Arnold and I had studied all up on poetry last night and I was ready to show my strengths to get that date with Phoebe.

But would it work?

* * *

"So what do you think this poem is about. Love?" Phoebe asked as I spun my chair around to sit facing her.

"Lost love, yeah. I mean she dies in the end and he's left to live life without the only brightness he'd ever had. Sounds pretty lost to me," I commented while staring down at the poem before me in my textbook.

"He seemed to really love her," she said almost wistfully while tracing her fingers over the words of the poem and reading aloud, "'For the moon never beams without bringing me dreams of the beautiful Annabel Lee; And the stars never rise, but I feel the bright eyes of the beautiful Annabel Lee,"

I took over for her on the last stanza and read to her, "'And so, all the night-tide, I lie down by the side of my darling—my darling –my life and my bride, in her sepulcher there by the sea—in her tomb by the sounding sea,' see? He breaks the rhythm like she broke his heart, this here, the Annabel Lee."

Phoebe giggled to herself for a moment while shaking her head, "What a lovely addition to the stanza, Sir Johanssen. Any other thoughts?"

"Come with me to the movies, Phoebe, don't make me write you a sappy poem like this just to get it out of you." The words came out boldly and I knew my man Arnold would be proud.

He always was such a bold kid, himself.

Phoebe sighed and pursed her lips together. "Gerald… the poem?"

"Phoebe," I replied with as much persistence, "the movie?"

"And just what movie were you intending to take me to? An action film, no doubt."

 _Alright Gerald, time to reel her in with the kill of the century. Are you ready?_ I thought to myself before opening my mouth and saying what I'd wanted to say this whole time.

"Nah," I said with confidence, "I was thinking we could see that French film coming to town for this weekend only."

This perked Phoebe up a bit and she turned to look at me somewhat lost. "Un Conte de Trois?"

"Exactly. A Tale of Three, that one you've been wanting to see," I urged while she furrowed her brow in contemplation.

"You've, you, how did you…?" She struggled to ask before sighing and realizing the truth. "Helga told you, didn't she?"

 _Abort mission. Abort!_ My inner voice screamed, but I was in too deep; I couldn't give up now.

"Nope, I just figured you might be into that," I explained while she looked at me curiously.

"And why do _you_ wish to go, Gerald? Just to impress me?"

The girl was smart, but she didn't know I'd done my homework. With confidence, I grinned, "Not exactly—"

"Because," she continued over me, "you _do_ realize it's a three movie special. Un Conte de Trois, The Man and Gebroken, het Hart."

"H-huh?" I asked before trying again to sound confident, though it was fading fast. "I mean, yeah, yeah, I knew that. I thought you didn't."

"Ahh," she said with a slight nod of her head and a small smile eroding on her lips. "Well then, if you really do wish to go with me, pick me up around four on Saturday as the movies begin at five and we wouldn't want to get a bad seat, yes?"

I swallowed the growing lump in my throat while smiling a fake grin I'd reserved only for school and family pictures. "Sure, yeah, definitely. Four it is."

Four it is. Four it is?! What was I thinking? I was in WAY over my head and I hadn't the slightest clue as to what I was getting myself into.

Or rather, what I was getting US into.

Because I had a date. That's right, a DATE. A real live stinkin' date with Phoebe Heyerdahl.

I just hoped I didn't blow it the way I blew everything last time.

This only meant one thing though, a thing I wasn't sure was going to go over well with the powers that be.

Arnold was gonna have to stay up with me… AGAIN. And this time? Everything was at stake.

* * *

 _ **Keep your eyes peeled for some more Phoebe and Gerald goodness in our date chapter, coming up next!**_

 _ **Please review!**_

 _ **-Polka**_

 _ **PS: Shoutout to Edgar Allen Poe for my favorite poem ever!**_


	6. Date Prep Time

I rushed through Arnold's house door, waving to his parents and the rest of the boarders before running up the stairs to my best friend's room and entering, before slamming the door hastily behind me and taking labored breaths.

"A-A-Arnold…my…my man…" I breathed while hunching over to rest my hands on my knees and try to catch my breath.

"Gerald?" He asked while closing the book he was looking at and stood up from his bed to meet me at the door with a soft hand on my shoulder. "Are you okay?"

"Not…not…at all…" I struggled as Arnold gestured for me to take a seat on his couch—a familiar home for me in the nights I've slept over in the past.

"Well what's going on? And why are you in such a hurry?" he asked while making me sit down before grabbing me a water bottle out of his newly-installed mini-fridge.

Grabbing it from him and downing most the bottle, I caught my breath and sighed before setting the half-emptied bottle down and shaking my head in my hands.

"It's Phoebe, man," I said into my palms, "she's got me going to that foreign film thing this weekend."

"Well that's great!" Arnold exclaimed with a pat on my back. "That's what we were hoping, right?"

"Dude," I said while turning to look at Arnold with a scared look in my eye, "did Helga TELL you there were three freakin' movies?"

Arnold hesitated, clearly having no idea what I'm talking about. "Three? But we only studied the one—"

"I know, I know, Arnold," I said cutting him off and waving him off as well. "But we have two more to cram in before I have to meet her on Saturday."

"Gerald…"

"Arnold!" I said loudly while throwing my hands in the air and standing up to pace around his room. "C'mon, man, I NEED you here. I can't go to some movie with Phoebe and not sound SMART about it! What am I supposed to do?"

"Gerald, you know I am leaving with my parents for the rest of the week to visit Arnie's family…" he said, his voice trailing off as he did so.

"So?!"

"So I won't be here to help you. We're leaving tomorrow." His words shot through me like sharp bullets and I tried not to collapse at the affect they had on me.

I sighed a dramatic sigh and tilted my head back while reaching up to rub at my eyes with my fingertips. "What am I gonna do, Arnold? How am I supposed to get through this date?"

Arnold licked his lips in thinking before pursing them and offering me a strained look. "Well, I have an idea but I don't think you're gonna like it."

* * *

I could not believe I was about to do this.

I mean, I COULD believe I was crazy enough to go along with Arnold's whole side-scheme he had going on, but I could NOT believe how insane this whole 'operation Phoebe' thing was headed.

Helga?

Helga G. Pataki?

As in the Helga who never mentioned there were THREE movies instead of just ONE? What on EARTH made Arnold think that she could, or was even GOING to help me? With her best friend, even?

I was a wreck. I was a glorified hot mess with bangin' hair just walking around day after day waiting for Thursday when I met Helga for the big study session.

What was she going to teach me? Was she even going to give me logical advice? I mean, c'mon, the woman hates me HATES me hates me. For all I knew, she was going to sabotage this entire date because she wouldn't want me with Phoebe.

That's why her first comment threw me for a loop that Thursday when I met with her after school.

"Look, Geraldo, the only reason I'm doing this is for PHOEBE, you got that? For whatever reason, the two of you are like… MEANT to be together or something and all I'm doing is trying to speed along the process before the both of you drive me insane and off of a cliff or something, comprende?"

I stared at her, dumbfounded, and nodded my head. "Y-yeah, Helga, I uh, I gotchya." I set my bookbag down on the chair beside me at the local coffee shop and took my seat across from her with ease. "So you're—you're really REALLY gonna help me then?"

Helga smirked and nodded her head. "I don't know WHY, probably because YOU didn't ask me, but yes I'll do the best with what I'm given and I got you so we have a LOT of work to do."

Taking her comment with a grain of salt, I smiled that fake smile once more and took out my notebook from my bookbag along with a blue pen- my favorite of all pens.

And I wrote it down. Every comment she made—not including the insults –I wrote down in my little book of secrets to get inside Phoebe's very trained and overly smart mind. Sure, I felt a little out of my league. It'd be easy to turn around and go back to Rhonda who still bugged me nonstop each day, but that wasn't worth it to me. Phoebe was worth it. She was worth all this foreign mumbo jumbo and even this incredibly unlikely visit with none other than Helga G. Pataki herself.

Hell, I was willing to go through literal Hell and back for this woman and that was putting it nicely.

Because Helga was a drill sergeant.

"Tell me why foreign films are important."

"Helga, I already ANSWERED that question," I responded with acidity in my words.

Helga leaned in towards me and with a devious smile, she said, "Then humor me and tell me again, wise-guy. _Why_ are they so _important_?" her tone was demanding and I felt my heart flutter in fear inside my ribcage at her tenacity.

She was really going for me and I'll admit I'm not sure I was entirely ready for Phoebe 101 with Miss Pataki as my teacher.

She was killing me.

"They spread the ability of an intercultural communication between countries like ourselves with other countries. It's like the internet but more foreign and somehow better."

Helga frowned and narrowed her eyes my way. "Leave out the smartass crap, okay? Not charming, let's just say that."

"Well what about your obvious love for sarcasm and cruelty and bluntness? What about all YOUR charm, _Miss_ Pataki?" I countered and she groaned while leaning her head back as she sat in the chair ahead of me.

"Seriously, tall-hair-boy?" She said aloud before returning to look at me and resting her chin on the heel of her hand. "You want my help, or not, bucko?"

I glanced down at the small amount I'd written of notes for my date and sighed before picking up the pen again and tapping it with frustration on my notebook. "Just go on, would ya, Pataki? The rate we're going we'll be here forever."

"Then chop chop and let's get going because you still have a lot to cover—"

"Like WHAT the damn movies are about? How about THAT, Helga? Hmm?"

"All in due time, young grasshopper," she said with a smirk and I narrowed my own eyes her way as if to lazer point her into tomorrow. "Now why did Gloria leave Mathew in 'The Man' from England's lovely cinematic masterpiece?"

I reached up and scratched at my head. "Because of his influence on her life? The way she lived her and the way he lived his became one and it really messed them up."

Helga sighed and gestured out towards me with exasperation. "Smarter, Gerald. Sound. Smarter. Criminy!"

"Look woman, I'm trying my best here, okay? I've listened to you yabber on for at least two hours and quite frankly, I'm sick of you being such a you-know-what. Why can't you just help me?" I exclaimed; half the coffee shop looking in our direction as I did so.

Helga glanced around herself before leaning back in her chair and crossing her arms. "I know it may not SEEM like I'm trying to help you, but I really am. Phoebe and I have been best friends our entire lives and you wanna know WHY Johanssen?"

Curious, I adjusted in my seat and stared Helga down. "Why, Helga?"

"Because we GET each other. I know HOW to see into other people and so does Phoebe. She may be smart but she isn't naïve either." With a sigh she looked down to her lap and quietly murmured, "I want this to work for you two, I really do, it's just—"

"Just what, Helga?"

Looking up slowly from where she sat, her eyes were sad with a hint of worry. I swallowed hard and waited for her response.

"It's just that I'm not sure me tutoring you is gonna work the wonders I think Arnold thinks it will," her tone was earnest and truthful; something I rarely heard from Helga but Arnold probably heard tons of- it was that other side he always talked about and for the first time, I was seeing it firsthand. "You've… you've got to go on out there and be yourself, Gerald. That's what Phoebe's going to like. It's what she DOES like about you, as weird and tall-haired as you are."

I sat stunned before her and soon shook my head before packing up my notebook and standing up to sling my book bag over my shoulder.

"Where are you going?" She asked with genuine concern and I turned around to face her with an angry face planted on my head.

"If you aren't gonna help me get smart, then I'll do it myself, okay?"

"But why aren't you—" she tried, though it was no use.

"Phoebe thinks we should stay in our own cliques and I'm TRYING to prove to her that that isn't true but between you and Arnold, I'm getting nowhere. If I'm going to get smart, I need to do this myself."

"But Gerald," Helga tried again, waving me back to take my seat once more. "Gerald, you've got to listen to me on this one, okay? I may hate you, but I'm trying to help—"

I laughed out loud and shook my head with my laughter. "Help? You're trying to actually help me?"

"As a matter of a fact, I am, is that so weird?" She asked, although I knew she already knew the answer.

"Incredibly! I'm a jock, sure, a dumb jock, but I'm not so dumb that I don't know you're doing this for HIM and not ME, Helga. So just," I pointed to her books, "grab your things and we'll leave here peacefully like the comrades we are."

"I AM trying to help but if you don't want it—"

"I don't NEED it, Pataki," I said willfully though I wasn't entirely sure I was telling the truth to her or myself. "I'm smooth and I can figure out how to woo Phoebe if I want to, and I don't need some blond, rude and clearly bored tutor to help me figure it out."

Helga laughed and began to put her books away while slamming her coffee down her throat and then disposing of it in the garbage just behind where she was seated. "Fine, Geraldo. But don't say I didn't warn you."

"You and Arnold both. But being myself isn't going to prove anything to Phoebe." I reached the door and stalled for a moment before turning around to look at her as she sat at our table watching me leave. "I know how to do this, I just have to do it, okay Pataki?"

Then, without an answer, I opened the door to leave the coffee shop with both anger and fear towards my date that was now in only two days away.

Holy…Two days? Where did the time go?

* * *

Once upon a time, Phoebe and I were headed for greatness- a greatness the world may have been ready for, but our little 10-year-old hearts just weren't prepared to handle. Like many pre-teens, Phoebe and I weren't ready for the commitment a real relationship took and Phoebe was too smart to embark on a roadless relationship that ended like most pairings did in that age bracket.

All of course with the exception of Arnold and Helga. What could I say, the two were meant to be together since the moment they were birthed and let's be real, I was happy for them.

I just wished the universe had been as kind to me as it had to them.

" _I just don't think it wise to go together when we don't actually know what we would want out of a relationship at this time,"_ she'd told me in seventh grade when I'd asked her out to a simple date to the bowling alley. Granted, it was just going to be the two of us and Phoebe had the right idea of what I wanted, but she just wasn't ready and a man as smooth as myself understood that.

Sometimes, you gotta wait for your lady. And that was exactly what I'd done now.

Yet, somehow, going to these 3 films scared me more than any bowling alley or horrendous score in a game. Maybe because more was at stake this time around.

I'd prepped myself on the movies, well, to the best of my ability. They all sounded a little cheesy to me but who was I to judge on something I'd never given a chance until now? After all, that was all anybody was doing to me after winning that stupid Homecoming King dealio; judging me without a single care as to who I really am all based on some lame award nobody would remember in ten years.

It was exhausting to be that guy and even more exhausting to be Phoebe's dream guy.

I started to wonder when at all I'd start to be my OWN guy—the true Gerald Johanssen.

 _Well sure as hell not tonight,_ the voice inside my head said and with a shot of cologne from my dad's special bin of colognes and an extra pep in my step, I was off to get Phoebe with shaky hands and sweaty palms that were all the tale-tell signs of my complete nervousness.

 _You got this, man,_ I tried to pep talk myself as I walked up towards her door and knocked lightly. _It's just Phoebe, the girl you have had a thing for since you first developed lady feelings. No pressure there,_ I smirked at my own sick joke before the door swung wide open to reveal Phoebe's father standing in the doorway.

"Gerald!" he exclaimed with a wide smile. "Nice to see you again, son. How has the world of athletics been for you?"

I adjusted awkwardly on the stoop and shrugged my shoulders. "It's been great. Been working towards a scholarship for basketball at the U of W."

"Oh well that's ambitious, I hope you find success. Please, why don't you come in."

And that's when my date night went from great to worse in a single second of time.

* * *

 _ **Sorry its a bit short this go around, but I wanted to save the date to an entire chapter of its own. Hope you enjoy this and stay tuned for more- the story is just getting good, i promise!**_

 _ **Please review!**_

 _ **-Polka**_


	7. Me AKA Worst Date Extraordinaire

Gather 'round, boys and girls, sons and daughters and all of the above. Come one, come all to hear that which is by far the greatest legend ever know—a legend so great that few even know the tale.

The tale that is the worst date ever known to that of any man or creature alike.

Oh yes, you see, this isn't just any tale my friends. Oh no. This story is one of true origin, so true, that I myself can attest to it because not only am I one of the sole keepers of this tale, but it is sad to say that I am the prime target for which this legend is based around.

Yes, it is I, Gerald Johanssen: worst-date extraordinaire.

It all started in the late afternoon of that which I call the city of Hillwood—a quaint town just in the suburbs of Seattle; a fine city indeed with its bustling buses and sputtering subways. It was just the sort of place you'd never expect such a cruel story to lie within, and yet, it is within that city this story lies. Or should I say, within the home of the Heyerdahl's in which it all began on that fateful day.

"Care to remove your shoes, Gerald?" Mr. Heyerdahl asked, even though I knew it was more of an order, I followed his dormant command with a happy smile planted on my cheeks.

"Glad to," I said before following him into their main living room—a spacious area nearly the size of my entire lower level of my own home.

"So you and Phoebe are to be seeing some movies today I understand," Phoebe's dad said while pouring himself a cup of tea as I stood awkwardly above him without my shoes on.

"Yes, sir," I responded immediately while jamming my hands into the pockets of my jeans.

"Kyo, please call me Kyo."

"R-right," I stuttered out before taking a large swallow of air into my body. "Kyo."

"How are your studies going then, Gerald?" Kyo asked while taking a sip of the tea he'd poured.

Shifting the weight between my feet, I shrugged. "They're going," I responded.

 _C'mon, man,_ my brain chimed in after my response, _that's no way to impress a lady's father. Give it some more… umph._

Clearing my throat, I added on quickly, "I mean, they uh, they're GOING and all, which is, you know, GOOD and all that. I uh, I work very hard to keep my grades up."

 _Lie. Complete lie, Gerald. Mm mm MM, you have got it BAD for this girl if you're using lies just to get to her._

But for some reason, some completely stupid and inane reason, I kept going.

"I study a lot, you know, so I can keep my grades up for the scholarship deal I might get."

"Ahh," Kyo said in almost a sing-song tone, "what a wise decision. You are a smart boy, I can see that already."

 _Good, good,_ I thought while chewing on the inside of my lip to stop my nerves from going wild, _keep this up and you'll be golden._

But I wasn't golden. Maybe to Phoebe's parents I was, but passing some 'interview' with her parents wasn't going to get me ANYWHERE unless Phoebe believed it all.

And Phoebe was well aware how my studies were going. If I WAS everything I claimed to be, I wouldn't need her help just to pass English class; my own LANGUAGE class.

I felt like everything was falling apart; like a vital string had been pulled from the tapestry of my life and I was hanging onto that thread with everything I had. Despite my fears of failing my first test in all that is Phoebe's world, she came down the stairs that instant and saved me from what I'm sure would only end in more lies that would eventually suffocate me and any chance I had with her.

Needless to say, I breathed a sigh of relief when I saw Phoebe's smiling face.

"Hello father; Gerald," she greeted us and I felt the warmth radiate through my body and up to my cheeks where it remained for a brief minute.

"Heya Pheebs, you ready to get going?"

"Of course, we wouldn't want to miss the opening advertisements. On nights like tonight, they show which foreign films will be coming next to our theatre and I'd love to see that if that's alright with you."

I shrugged with a smile, "Anything's okay with me," I said, which gave me a look of concern from Kyo and I quickly tacked on, "within reason, and all," before I got the crap kicked out of me on my first date with his daughter.

Kyo nodded his head and I gestured towards the door in true Vanna White style. "I'm ready when you are."

But was I? Was I REALLY ready for what was to come?

I'm sad to say that that, my friends, is an answer that you all should know given this legend and its contents.

As we drove in silence, I went through everything I'd memorized from the three movies we were about to see. I went over the plots and each minor detail that could mean life or death for this date; determined to impress Phoebe in any way I could.

But that, as we say, was just the tip of the iceberg coming into view on that, my first date with Phoebe.

* * *

Dating: the way that people learn to get to know one another in terms of a blooming relationship. They can go good or bad, but at the end of the day, it's that first date that determines everything.

Dating— my somehow WORST nightmare, and the cause of tragedy in this tale; a tale of woe and false information which can dig a rut into anybody's dating life. It was that which I, Gerald Johanssen, the homecoming king and king of worst first dates, messed up BIG time.

Let me set the stage.

The smell of freshly popped and buttered popcorn wafting through the air thick with the laughter and chatter of young and old. Walking passed the concession stand are the theaters themselves; each one with sticky floors from pop spills and candy wrappers of sweets now long since passed. The theaters each filled with minimal people that sprouted out of the seats like seedlings burst through to reveal that of a bulb ready to bloom.

It was clear that hardly ANYONE went to the foreign film night.

Anyone, that is, except Phoebe and I, even though our theater held a whopping 5 other sad-looking folks with nothing better to do than watch the overseas films and eat popcorn saltier than their lonely tears soon to creep down their cheeks once the lights lowered.

Okay, that's a bit dramatic, but still. We were the only date in the entire theaters combined, I swore.

Either way I was happy to be there. Happy, but a fool as most anti-heroes are in legends such as these. But as keeper of the tale, it is my sworn duty to discuss what happened that night, a night which has been burned in my memory like a stain on your favorite shirt.

"You want to go ahead and pick the seat, Gerald?" Phoebe asked me with a small bag of popcorn in her slender hands.

"No, no," I refused while taking a sip from my giant Yahoo soda. "You go ahead and pick the seat, Pheebs. Ladies first," I said while gesturing down the aisle which she sighed at but happily began walked down; me following behind with a wiggle in my walk as my knees felt like jello shaking on its serving platter.

Once Phoebe had settled on an aisle, I let her go first into the seating to pick our seat.

Big mistake.

The moment she sat down I tripped over her leg and sent my pop flying nearly everywhere in the theater. Rising up from the incident, I looked awkwardly to Phoebe who was trying to hide a smile though I didn't think this was all that funny.

I'd just spilled pop EVERYWHERE and over the lap of Phoebe Heyerdahl, no doubt.

So back into the concessions I went with a heavy heart and warmth fluidly swimming through my body as I ordered another large Yahoo soda and returned to the theater. Carefully, I slid into the aisle and without damage this time around; me managing to make it to my seat with pop still in hand.

 _This isn't going well,_ I thought to myself while offering Phoebe a sheepish grin and turning my gaze to the screen instead of meeting what were probably ashamed eyes. _Just focus on the movies, Gerald. Focus on knowing what these movies are. Focus on everything you STUDIED, man, and just get through this date with some face!_

But that was a feat that was hard to accomplish, let me tell you. It wasn't until the lights lowered that I actually found some peace overcome me and the confidence return slightly to my system that felt beaten down from my earlier incident.

Unfortunately for me, the anti-hero of this tale, it wouldn't quite be that easy. I had a lot at stake here and with all the mistakes that followed, it was hard to out-shadow everything I'd done in hopes of some kind of redemption at this date.

Because, as follows, is the date itself and please extend caution as these mistakes are the crux of our legend here, folks; the crux of the worst date known to man.

 _Lights up,_ I thought to myself as the screen went to black signifying our movie was about to start. And with that came my first mistake; my first mistake which began a whole chain of effects for my date. A deadly chain of effects that proved I was no match for smart people things and most of all, not smart enough for Phoebe Heyerdahl.

 _Good thing these are short films,_ I thought next as the first of the movies, _Un Conte de Trois_ began with its flickered lighting and blue overcast of lensing. It was a sadder movie, one of mixed feelings and deaths of varied kinds. A true tragedy if you're going by plotline alone. Thankfully, the whole movie was in French, a language that I'd been studying for three years now as it is truly, by all accounts, the language of love.

And what better way to be suave than to speak that, the language of love?

I made sure to chime in my translations and thoughts on the film every so often to prove to Phoebe I knew what was going on and was following along with precision of all the plot points and character arcs. And granted, a few people may have shushed me a time or two, but all in all, that movie went by without a hitch and our five-minute intermission began.

I went to the bathroom for the entire time and pep talked myself for the second movie—a decision that was only adding onto my long list of 'mess ups' seeing as I could have spent that time with Phoebe discussing the movie.

But five minutes was nothing, right? It was a measly five minutes so what good could that have done for me ANYway?

 _The Man_ was slated for next—a movie about life and death according to the critics but was mostly confusing lights and shotty stop-animation. The film as a whole felt sporadic and whether or not that was the message its directors intended on giving or not, the only thing I was getting was a severe headache.

So basically I kept my face in a bucket of popcorn for forty five minutes while sneakily whispering over to Phoebe what Wikipedia told me the movie was about; themes and all.

But I know what you're thinking. _Gerald, it's not really all that bad yet, is it? What could you and your smooth, suave self have possibly done to attract the affectionate title of 'Worst Date Extraordinaire?'_

Well THAT, my fine friends, is the crux of my tale and unfortunately for me, we are to the point of no return in this legend. Beware, as my actions only get worse from here.

The movie ended with bright credits rolling through the stop animation and in complete confusion, I clapped. I CLAPPED. Who claps at a film they don't even understand? Who even CLAPS at a film? And a SHORT one at that!? Me, that's who. Gerald Johanssen, king of the worst first-dates CLAPPED at a short film, thank you very much, and when the lights went up again for our next five-minute intermission, I had a beautiful pair of brown eyes staring at me in some kinda knock-off expression of horror on her face.

"Gerald," she asked as I shoved popcorn in my mouth to try and hide my shame, "are you…doing alright?"

"Awwight?" I asked through the gobs of buttered popcorn now hoarding the inner cavities of my mouth. I swallowed through the huge amount of salt I'd put on as a topping and tried again. "What do you mean am I doing alright?"

"You just seem," she started before shaking her head. "Nevermind."

"Don't 'nevermind' me," I said with a slight attitude that was NOT warranted, "What do you mean?"

"It's just," she began again while fidgeting slightly in her chair, "you don't seem to be into the movies all that much. You appear to rather talk about them than watch."

I sat stunned in my chair and began to uselessly shake the popcorn around in its giant bucket and shook my head. "If you're asking if I'm lost, I'm not."

"No, Gerald, that isn't what I was asking," she responded with a slower and more hesitant tone.

"Then…what?"

Phoebe huffed to herself before taking a deep breath and saying, "Could you just wait to analyze the movies _after_ they are finished? It's rather distracting for myself and everyone else in the audience if you talk during the entire thing."

 _Dammit,_ I thought to myself while trying to find saliva in my now desert-like mouth, _I thought the whole 'smart' thing was going so well, too._

 _Mm mm MM!_ I found myself thinking still, _This is NOT going the way I had hoped._

And it wasn't. But I wasn't finished destroying this date yet.

The lights went down as our last feature began to start, one that I'd had to spend the MOST time researching to prepare for this, the final test of my knowledge for the night.

 _But how are you supposed to PROVE just how smart you are if she doesn't even want you to TALK to her, huh, smart guy?_ I asked myself as the opening credits began to role; each name something I could hardly read more or less pronounce had I not practiced. And now all my practice would end up just useless knowledge under my amazing stack of hair; never to be used or heard of again if I didn't prove myself to Phoebe.

So what did I do?

I talked. I talked the entire movie trying to get my word in edgewise amidst my crappy translations and overview of a plot I clearly didn't understand.

And HOW did I notice such a thing in a dimly lit movie theater?

It was the look of sheer confusion washing over Phoebe's face that told me I had the wrong movie. Hell, the MOVIE told me I had the wrong movie but I just kept on going; kept on chugging away on my train to the worst date in HISTORY thanks to all my 'research.'

You see, ' _Gebroken Het Hart'_ wasn't exactly the movie I THOUGHT it'd been. When I looked it up online, I translated it perfectly from Dutch (via google translate of course) to _'Broken Heart'_ which is what I'd searched for and read over COUNTless times in preparation for this date.

What I WASN'T told, however, was that there are a FEW movies in Deutschland that happen to have such a title and the movie I HAD translated and studied for hours happened to be ANOTHER film that wasn't even COMING to this theater, let alone this country anytime soon.

Needless to say, there were a few things wrong with my 'smarts' involving _'Gebroken Het Hart.'_ Firstly, the movie I'd studied was from 1966 and this movie was CLEARLY more evolved than that. Secondly, the movie I'd went over was about revenge of the heart where this movie was about, well, SOMETHING else and thirdly, I was speaking ALL SORTS of nonsense to Phoebe right beside me in a last-ditch effort to impress her with something other than my good looks and manly-smelling cologne.

Allow me to give you a taste of just how horrible my small-talk went.

"So this film," I began on my wayward journey of attempting to show Phoebe something remarkable about myself, "it was made in the 60's you know. By some guy who was going to college and wanted to do a movie in his basement."

Phoebe's eyebrows contorted towards her face as she leaned in to me and whispered, "I believe this film was made this year, actually. I don't remember hearing anything about a basement, however."

Swallowing my pride, I nodded my head and tried to decide what to say next. "Yeah, he uh, his basement was décor-decorated to fit the movie and the th-themes," I struggled as Phoebe finally turned to look at me with the look of confusion plastered on her face.

Confusion, and pity. Sweet, sweet pity for a lovesick fool like myself.

But I wasn't through yet. Oh no. I'd stayed up all night cramming useless information into my brain and apparently my mouth thought it would be a good idea to let all that trivia out for one sad victory lap.

And I was the lone runner.

"They say there were all these things that went wrong on set," I blurted out in horror as I continued unknowingly. "Blood was spilled like, all over the set on multiple occasions. It made for a bad cleanup and for the movie to be pushed back like, four days."

Phoebe took a sip of her pop and swallowed before leaning into me and whispering, "There isn't any blood in this movie, Gerald. At least, none that I know of."

"But the storyline," I kept going foolishly, "its about—"

"The love shared between a spouse and his wife who passed away in a tragic accident," Phoebe finished for me which shut MY pie-hole pretty effectively.

Reaching for my popcorn, I tried to hold it tightly with one hand while reaching even further for my pop.

Yeah, not my best move off the court.

While trying to juggle both, I lost grip of the popcorn and let it spill all over Phoebe—butter and all.

"Gerald!" Phoebe exclaimed while standing up to brush off the slimy butter and salt that was now covering her plaid skirt.

"Hey!" Someone shouted from behind us. "Down in front!"

Fighting my urges to stand up and show that guy who's boss, Phoebe slid down back into her seat and huffed quietly while still trying to brush off her skirt.

Me on the other hand, I sat silently beside her while allowing the warmth of embarrassment washed over me.

"I uh, I'm so sorry, Pheebs," I whispered as she ignored me and kept her gaze at the screen ahead of us.

Beating myself up about the whole spill, I sat and stared at the screen as SOMEthing unfolded before my eyes that sounded NOTHING like my facts. But I just couldn't STOP. It was like in that movie Timberly made me watch, Mean Girls, where she talks about word vomit and I am TELLING you, THAT is a very real thing.

After all, I was word vomiting all over the place.

"So this scene," I tried carefully as Phoebe perked her ears slightly at the sound of my whisper probably tickling her ear, "the director said it was-"

BAM! Enter car crash.

Phoebe turned her head to look at me expectantly and with a swallow, I shook my head. "N-nevermind."

"No, no, Gerald," Phoebe said with a slightly pretentious tone, "Do tell. I'm interested in what it is that you have to add."

Pursing my lips together I chuckled inwardly almost hoping she'd take her request back. As the movie proceeded, I swallowed the gulp in my throat growing to probably a watermelon and made the best guess I possibly could on what THIS director would have to say about this scene.

"He uh," I began as Phoebe nodded her head to tell me she was listening, "I mean he just said that the uh, the boom mic kept getting in the shot or something stupid like that."

 _Dumb, Gerald! What was THAT?! That was the WORST fact you could POSSIBLY make up in the history of fact-making-up!_ I shook my head as Phoebe turned away from me and tried not to facepalm though the urge was pretty strong.

I was ruining this. Not just this date, either. I was ruining the movie. I'm sure Phoebe didn't care about facts or stupid trivia nobody cares about—she was here for the movie and that was something I had to respect.

Especially after all the talking and spilling I'd been doing to distract her from the film.

Needless to say, my brain finally caught up to my mouth and I remained silent for the rest of the film. Granted, I had no idea what was going ON 90% of the time since there aren't any subtitles for these particular films, but Phoebe seemed to enjoy the rest of the film and when the lights rose, she set her right hand over her heart and nodded her head.

"What a truly moving film," she commented as I stood up awkwardly and glanced down at Phoebe's lap now littered with popcorn condiments making a pattern on her already-patterned skirt.

"Ye-yeah," I squeaked out before clearing my throat and trying again. "Yeah, I mean, a little dark, but good."

"Dark? How do you figure?" She asked and I silently screamed inside my body.

 _How could this be HAPPENING? THINK of something, would you already? I mean, come ON, man!_

"Well, the uh, the plot first off was kinda dark. I mean someone dying in a car crash? That's pretty dark, you gotta admit."

Phoebe smirked and shook her head. "It was sad I'll admit, but that wasn't even the main plot point of the story. It only served purpose to add characterization to the lead, Garren."

"Right, Garren," I said because honestly? That was the first time I'd heard that dude's name since the movie began.

Maybe I should have just tried harder to pay attention, but I just wouldn't give up on trying to get Phoebe's attention, good or bad.

And let's be honest, most of it was probably in the 'bad' category.

But that didn't mean I wasn't up for a round two.

"That Garren guy seemed to really love…uh…the girl he loved." _Smooooooth, sailor. Get it together!_

"Yes, apparently so. Although, their meeting was simply a freak accident."

"He dropped popcorn all over his date too?" I accidently spilled out as my eyes widened and I scrambled to find a way to avoid any further embarrassment, including the reminder of a REAL freak accident: starring Gerald Johanssen.

There just wasn't any way that I could save this date. No way that I could possibly think of. I'd blown it. Blown it COMPLETELY.

That's why I spent the entire car ride back with Phoebe silently watching the road and hoping she'd say something to me.

Which, by the way, she never did. Not until we reached her place, that is.

"Well Gerald," she said as I parked in front of her house, "this was…an interesting night."

I sighed and nodded my head. "Yeah, it really, REALLY was, wasn't it?"

"Interesting isn't entirely bad, you know," she added as my heart did a little kick-flip and spin inside my chest.

"It isn't?"

She chuckled softly while brushing off some speckles of salt still on her skirt. "No, Gerald. Despite your talking through nearly the entirety of all three movies, your… accident, and your utter silence after doing so, it was a date I'll definitely remember."

"And will there be a second?" I asked without thinking and waited while holding my breath for her answer.

"Hmm," she hummed while reaching for the door handle. "Perhaps. However, I'm not sure it will be soon. I've been, well, very busy to say the least."

"Right, right," I recovered while reaching up to scratch my head. "Well, goodnight, Pheebs. Sorry again for your skirt."

She shrugged her shoulders and nodded to me. "I can always wash it, Gerald Johanssen."

"Ahh, full name. You know, you're taking over my mom's strongest selling point in getting me to listen."

Phoebe smiled and nodded her head once again before opening the door to the car and quietly saying, "Goodnight" before walking off to enter her house and leave me with all my mistakes singing songs in my head.

I was doomed. My relationship with Phoebe was comPLETELY doomed.

Or at least, I THOUGHT it was until my mom fed me some interesting information the next day while I was staying home 'sick.'

Being 'sick' is a gift passed down from generation to generation in my family. We watched our grandfather do it countless times while he was still working, Jamie-O taught me the art of it back in middle school and now I was using it to avoid Phoebe.

More so I was using it to avoid my 'interesting' date with Phoebe, but Mom knew NOTHING about that disaster so her words came as a surprise to me, completely.

"So I saw that friend of yours you spent the other night with at the movies? Phoebe?" She said while ladeling more soup into my bowl.

Taking a large sniff to pretend it was clearing my nose up, I pretended to be disinterested and nodded my head. "Oh yeah? What'd she have to say?"

"Well, she dropped off your homework this morning during her free hour while you were still sleeping."

I spit out the hot liquid back into the bowl and wiped my mouth with my sleeve. "Wh-what? She, she DID?"

"Of course," Mom said in a confused tone, "you both have English together, right?"

"Right…" my voice trailed off as I motioned for her to continue while trying again at eating my soup.

"Well, we had this lovely talk and then I figured, since she's a friend of yours and all, why not invite her to dinner?"

Spittake number two, all over the tablecloth.

"Gerald!" My mom shrieked while walking over to the table to try and mop up my spit and soup sprayed neatly over the table. "It's hot soup, you have to blow on it first."

Wiping my face for the second time, I took a breath and managed out, "You invited her OVER? Like, HERE over? OUR house? When?"

My mom furrowed her brows and chuckled, "On Monday night, after school and after you're better. I thought it might be nice to have one of _your_ friends over for once instead of Timberly always keeping you sidelined with her sleepovers."

"SOOO why not Arnold? My best friend? You didn't think you could invite him?" I asked quickly as if the words were pouring out of me like a faucet I couldn't turn off.

"Oh Arnold is _family_ , Gerald. You talk about Phoebe all the time. I thought it would be nice to get to know her. Why are you so worried, honey?"

"BeCAUSE!" I exclaimed while standing up from the table. "That's only a few days away!"

"And?" She asked while watching as I ditched my sick act and booked it up the stairs to my room.

"And I gotta be ready! WE've gotta be ready!" I hollered down after her and immediately shut the door to my room; pacing being the only logical thing I can do now.

Phoebe was coming over to my house. PHOEBE. As in Phoebe Heyerdahl, Phoebe.

What was I going to do? How was I going to whip my family into Heyerdahl standards?

All I knew was I had to get some advice and fast.

After all, Monday was only a few days away and I was already running out of time on making the best impression on Phoebe a lovesick guy could make.

* * *

 _ **Sorry for taking so long, I've had a...weird...series of events since may. I sort of injected myself with formeldahyde and had to have hand surgery so it's been a struggle to write during the healing process BUT... i'm back at it again and I'd love some feedback on this chapter AKA reviews if you would be so kind. I always love hearing from you guys! So please review! What did you like about this chapter? What did you find funny? What do you think Gerald will do next? I love to hear it all!**_

 _ **-Polka**_


	8. The Date of a Lifetime

"Arnold, Arnold!" I hollered through the phone after he picked up nearly the moment after it began ringing.

"Gerald? It's—"

But I was quick to cut him off. "I don't CARE what time it is, man, I'm in a CRISIS?"

Arnold yawned and adjusted his phone a few times before coming in clearer, but sounding very tired. "Okay, I'm up. What's going on?"

"It's Phoebe, man," I said in a panic, "My mom invited her over for dinner?"

There was silence over the phone and I began to panic even further. "Arnold? Are you THERE man?"

"Yes, I'm here. What's the problem? Shouldn't you be happy that Phoebe is giving you another chance?" Arnold asked and I rolled my eyes to myself while switching hands while holding my phone.

"It isn't another CHANCE, Arnold. It's a PLAY DATE," I exclaimed before dropping my face in my hand and mumbling through it, "And it's going to be a DISASTER."

Arnold sighed into the receiver and I could almost see him shaking his head at me. "Gerald, do you think it might be possible that you're overreacting just a little bit?"

"I'm not overreacting, man," I said calmly as if trying to prove my point. "You've MET my family."

"Gerald," he said calmly, "There's nothing wrong with your family."

"Oh come ON," I demanded, "Don't you remember when YOU were freaked to have me over to meet YOUR family? Huh? And I'm your BEST FRIEND."

Arnold chuckled through the phone, "Yeah, but I learned, from _your_ family, to be proud of my family and to embrace them for who they are. Besides, when Helga met my family—"

"Oh no. You are NOT telling me about when SHE met your family. Seriously, man!" I said loudly, sure to wake Arnold up and possibly some of my own family members.

"What? What's so wrong with that story?"

I tried to talk through my sarcastic laughter, "Helga CREEPED on you, dude. She already KNEW your family. There was nothing to share!"

"Why are you acting like this, Gerald?" He asked suddenly, "I'm just trying to help. Remember, _you_ called _me_."

I let out a deep breath before taking in a new one and trying to start over. "Look, I'm sorry man, it's just I'm really freaked out about what she's going to think of my family. We're… unconventional. We're wild and crazy and loud and nothing that she's probably used to."

Arnold seemed to take this in for a moment before saying, "Yes, well, so are a lot of families, you know. Maybe Phoebe will _like_ that your family is a little unconventional? Have you considered that?"

"Well, NO," I admitted, "I mean, not really, but what if I could change them? What if I tried to change how they act, just for one night?"

"Gerald…"

"What?" I asked though I wasn't looking for an answer. "Think about it, man, it could work! I've seen it done on plenty of sitcoms…"

"Sitcoms, Gerald, not real life," Arnold pointed out. "You can't expect to change your entire family in a few days or hours. Look at what happened when you tried to change for Phoebe already?"

"Dude, that was a FLUKE, I'm tellin' ya," I said in clear denial. This, THIS idea can be done."

"Are you sure?" He questioned, with logical reasoning too. "Because I don't want to have to go through the heartbreak of it not working again with you. I mean, you're like a brother to me and you always will, but how many times do you think you'll have to change for Phoebe before you realize you don't have to? Change for her, that is?"

This gave me food for thought. Could Arnold really be right? Did I really NOT have to change for Phoebe?

Naaaaah, the hierarchy of high school had already been game, set, matched for me and Pheebs. I had to do something that would impress her and maybe a family meal was exactly what I needed. Maybe, after all, my mom had a BRILLIANT idea and had saved me from my own self and given me this second chance.

Maybe dinner was EXACTLY what I needed.

"You know Arnold, I uh, I think I actually got this." I said while reaching over to my desk to grab a notebook and begin searching for a writing utensil.

"You sure, Gerald? Because I'm not really positive this is the best route for you two. I can call Helga and ask her if—"

"No, dude, don't call Helga," I said while wedging the phone between my shoulder and my ear. "The last thing I need right now is an anti-pep-talk from Pataki herself."

"She could be able to help…"

"No, no, no, man," I insisted blindly while finally finding a pen and uncapping it to begin writing my thoughts down on the paper in front of me. "I really GOT this."

Arnold paused on the phone before sighing and saying, "All right, Gerald. If you say so. Just… really think this through this time, okay? Try not to scare her off by being somebody you're not?"

"Yeah, I hear ya loud and clear," I said without really hearing Arnold's warning. "Night, man."

And with that, I hung up the phone and pulled out a notebook to begin scrawling every detail of our upcoming dinner for the rest of the night.

* * *

That Monday, the day of my motherly-appointed date, I tried nearly EVERYTHING in an effort to shield Phoebe from that which I call 'my family.' Not that I didn't have Plan B already set into motion. I had stayed up ALL NIGHT the night before in preparation for this date and planned out every single possible anything that could happen just in case I couldn't convince her out of coming over.

But that didn't mean I wasn't going to try out my Plan A—Operation Get-Phoebe-To-Change-Her-Mind-About-Coming.

Plan A included doing EVERYTHING I had to do to STOP this, even if it meant giving up the extra time with Phoebe. The day would come when she would be able to handle it all, but as far as I was concerned, our relationship was still in its early stages. To me, it just wasn't exactly the time to introduce her to my dysfunction or its side effects which include, but are not limited to, gas, burping, busted eardrums, possible food fights and all things Jamie-O.

I was just glad Jamie-O had moved out and into the throws of college so if my plan to stall this little meet-and-greet didn't work, I only had to worry about fixing everyone ELSE in family. Jamie-O was more along the lines of…hopeless.

At least hopeless when it came to the hope of changing, anyway, even for just one night.

But all of that was Plan B—Operation Change-My-Entire-Family-In-24-Hours-And-Impress-The-Hell-Out-Of-Phoebe, and while I had no intention of giving up on Plan A, Plan B was set in place for that 'what if' in the event she DOESN'T change her mind and DOES decide to come see my house full of Circus Animals. I mean, c'mon, my family dynamic was hard to change; we've always been a house full of life and noise ever since I can remember. And, unfortunately for me, not everyone was so cool with it like Arnold was.

Would Phoebe be okay with it—with the reality of my home? Would I even ever allow her to try?

One day. Someday. But not today. The minutes were ticking by until English rolled around when I tried my best to convince Phoebe to stay home; to stay home and forget all about this dinner my mom had cooked up both figuratively and literally.

I just wished I'd have some luck on my side.

"So Pheebs," I started when I entered the classroom and reluctantly sat down. "How you doin' today?"

Phoebe looked up from her book which she was reading and stuck her bookmark into the binding of the book and closed it shut. "Well, thank you. I'm looking forward to dinner tonight."

 _Geez, not even a minute in and she's already talking about it. Mm mm MM, THIS is going to be a LOT harder than I expected._

"Right, see, about that—" I began, though Phoebe was quick to finish for me.

"Gerald, please, before you try to convince me out of coming to your house, I want you to know I have no hard feelings about the other night."

 _Huh. Well THAT wasn't what I was expecting. Not at ALL._

I swallowed hard and blinked a few times before responding. "The-the other night?"

Phoebe smiled a sly smile and nodded her head. "The movies? When you spilled popcorn all over me?"

Warmth spread throughout my cheeks as I found my mouth to be incredibly dry. "R-r-right. Right. The movies. You don't? Have any hard feelings, that is?"

She shook her head while holding onto her smile. "No, of course not. You seemed very nervous."

"Pssh, nervous?" I tried to sound cool as I leaned back into my chair. "I just wanted to prove I knew a thing or two about foreign films, that's all."

Phoebe nodded her head while pursing her lips slightly. "Are you sure that's all you were trying to prove, Gerald?"

"Is that a trick question?" I blurted out as she chuckled and shook her head; the bell ringing to tell us to take our seats before our teacher began her lesson for the day.

"I just have this feeling you'd prefer I not join you and your family for dinner is all I was trying to say."

My eyes widened and I sat frozen in front of her with a dumbfounded look on my face. Squeaking out and speaking far too fast, I said, "Of COURSE not, I would LOVE for you to come over and meet my family."

 _No. No, no, no, no, NO! No, Gerald! What are you DOING?!_

"Oh," this seemed to surprise her and she smiled. "Well I'm really glad to hear that, Gerald."

"I just wished I'd thought of it MYSELF, is all. Inviting you over. Meeting my family. BONDING."

I couldn't stop the words. They kept flying out of my mouth faster than I could stop them and I was beginning to lose my mind at my poor choices.

 _What ever happened to Plan A, Johanssen?_

"Right, well, at least somebody thought of it, yes?" Phoebe whispered as our teacher began to talk and I continued right along with Mrs. Calciprazz.

"I mean, how could I NOT think of it, right? How could I NOT think about inviting you over?"

"Gerald…" Phoebe whispered while trying to get me to stop.

I just wish I'd have listened.

"Like, how could anything be wrong about a friend having another friend over for some dinner? Just a casual dinner? Like a dinner of—"

"Gerald Johanssen," Mrs. Calciprazz said from ahead of the room. "Is there something you'd like to discuss with the rest of us, or just Ms. Heyerdahl?"

I felt my cheeks get hot and immediately wished to be invisible for at least a solid five minutes for recovery. But no, everyone in the ENTIRE ROOM was turned around staring at me and I stumbled through words in an effort to save myself.

"I uh, I just wanted, to uh, to say that, English…"

"Yes…?" She urged me on.

"English is…it's the best. Yep. Just the best class. Hands down. And you do a great job teaching, Mrs. C," which I added a point and click in her direction making half the class chuckle and me inwardly groan.

"Right, Mr. Johanssen. Then may I continue?"

It took all I had not to sink into my desk and admit defeat after that but my brain was too busy.

Plan A was already out the window which meant I had to implement Plan B and if I were to do that, I'd have to set some ground rules first… rules which I began work on almost immediately and continued to work on for the rest of Mrs. C's lecturing, all throughout lunch break and every class thereafter.

This dinner was going to go well if it was the LAST thing I did.

* * *

"Okay everybody, Listen up!" I announced as my family sat in the living room watching reruns of television shows we didn't care about. "Tonight is a BIG NIGHT for me, okay?"

"Why?" Timberly prodded with a giggle in her voice. "Is it because you're in LOOOOOVE, Gerald?"

"And just what do YOU know about love, huh, Tim? You got a boyfriend already or something?"

"I have FOUR!" She shouted and I narrowed my eyes in her direction.

"You are a KID, girl, you aren't old enough for a boyfriend. Seriously, Mom?"

"Oh honey, she's just goofing around with you." Mom said though Timberly was unconvinced.

"No I'm not!" She teased and I shook my head at her and pointed in her direction.

"See THIS is why we needed a family meeting for this, okay? You guys have GOT to get yourselves in control if we're gonna impress Phoebe tonight. She's not like us."

"What is _that_ supposed to mean, Gerald Martin Johanssen?" My dad said sternly and I swallowed hard at hearing my full name before carefully responding.

"Chill dad, it's nothing bad, she's just, well, she's an only child, okay? And she might not be… USED to a family setting like ours."

"Like ours, how?" Timberly asked. "She doesn't have a charming sister like you?"

"Ha ha, very funny, Tim," I said with sarcasm in my tone, "No, she's an only child and being an only child comes with being quieter, calmer, and a lot less ANNOYING—"

"Gerald…" My mom said from the kitchen where she was cooking lasagna for our dinner; something Phoebe apparently told my mom she rarely has.

At least I knew one thing for sure—my mom made a BOMB tasting lasagna.

"Sorry ma, it's just, this whole thing has to be PERFECT, okay?"

"But why?" Tim asked and I had half a mind to come over to where she was sitting and ruin her texting party with her friends.

"BeCAUSE, Tim—"

"Because you LIKE her like her, don't you Gerald?"

I sighed and swallowed hard. I wasn't going to win this battle. I remember being her age and thinking how she thought, so I had to cut the girl some slack.

At least right NOW I had to. Once Phoebe got here, all bets were off.

With a frown and a look at her from under my lashes I said, "YES Timberly. I like her like her, all right? You happy?"

Timberly looked up at me and grinned before nodding her head, "Yeah, yeah, Gerald has a crush, what else is new?" She said before returning her attention down to her ipod and typing away as fast as her little fingers could manage.

 _Great… now I had to worry about Timberly spilling the beans in the middle of this meal. I hope I can keep her under control._ I sighed to myself before handing out everyone's nightly agendas and thinking, _Well, at least Jamie-O isn't here ruin things even FURTHER. As if HE'D ever follow an agenda like everyone else._

"Okay, so, first on the list is introductions," I began while pointing to my own copy and deciding to expand on this first task. "Please PLEASE let me introduce you, alright?"

"But Gerald," dad said, "haven't we met this Phoebe before?"

I dropped my arms to my side and began shaking my head. "No dad, you've met, but you haven't MET met yet."

"Ha, that rhymed," Timberly chimed in and I directed her towards her agenda before going onto the next point.

"Okay, okay so next we have dinner which may sound simple but may I direct you towards the following points underneath."

"Things that are off limits?" Dad questioned. "Gerald, what is the meaning of this?"

"It's just a few simple things to… steer clear of when we're at the dinner table."

"No picking your nose, no spitting out your food, no inappropriate conversations—what does that even MEAN?" Timberly asked while pointing in confusion at the paper with slight anger in her voice.

"It means we don't need to hear what Dee and Alice and Monica have to say about ANYTHING at ANY point in tonight's conversations."

"No electrical talk? No lecturing? Gerald I don't think you have earned the right to tell your father what is appropriate to say and what is not," Dad said next and I was growing frustrated with all the questions on my few SIMPLE rules.

"Look, it isn't that difficult, okay? They're just a few things that I think if we steered clear of, would really help this dinner date go over well. I just want Phoebe to see the BEST of us, don't you all?"

Mom came out of the kitchen and wiped her hands on her apron before smiling my way and saying, "Honey, I think Phoebe will fit in just fine with us. There's nothing to be worried about, she's a smart, independent girl and to try and make her believe we're something we're not just isn't right, don't you think, sweetie?" She leaned in to kiss my cheek but I was quick to intrude.

"Ah ah ah," I said while wagging a finger in her direction before pointing to the list I was holding in my hand. "Rule number 3, no pet names, kisses or overly long hugs."

"Not even from your mother?" She asked with slight agitation in her voice and I frowned knowing it was disappointing to her to have to have me grow up so quickly.

"Sorry, Ma, it's just a formality, don't worry." I tapped her cheek lightly and with affection before directing everyone's attention to points number four through six.

"Next we have, no being picky, and I'm looking at YOU Timberly."

"ME?" She exclaimed in surprising shock, "Wait, why me?! I'm not picky!"

"To Hell you are—"

"Gerald!" Dad scolded, "Language!"

"Sorry, its just, I mean you complain about EVERYTHING, Tim. First it's the way the milk tastes in the glass and then it's the way the vegetables are cooked and how you don't even LIKE vegetables and then next thing you know the noodles are too hard it's just…" I took a deep breath and let it out gracefully before continuing. "Could you tone it down just a bit? TRY not to go off on mom's cooking until AFTER Phoebe leaves?"

"Thanks for the consideration, Gerald," Mom deadpanned and I offered her an apologetic look with a shrug of my shoulders.

What could I say, I was just being honest?

"Now Gerald," Dad interrupted, "What's this about 'church clothes' down here? Point number 9?"

"Try not to skip ahead, dad, I mean, we haven't even talked about designated talking points yet."

"Designated talking—Gerald, I think you've got this thing all wrong, honey," Mom said from where she stood in the doorway between the dining room and the kitchen.

"Yeah," Timberly agreed, "isn't a girl supposed to like you because she LIKES you not because she likes your family or whatever?"

"Guys, guys, guys!" I said loudly, "You're missing the point! Talking points are GOOD!" I insisted, "Things like 'how was school today' and 'what was work like' and 'the weather was wonderful this afternoon' and all the kind of polite talk there can be, you guys got it?" I demanded.

I watched as everyone's eyes stared at me blankly and I sighed before picking up the agenda and holding it up in the air as if this whole thing were show and tell and I was back in kindergarten again. "Look, this agenda is supposed to just help things go SMOOTHLY, okay? Just go smooth like as smooth as a baby's toosh, okay? I just NEED this to go well."

"But why?" Timberly asked and I gripped the paper tightly while trying to answer her calmly.

"BeCAUSE Tim, life gets weird once you hit High School and you might not understand it NOW, but you will one day and UNTIL that day, I NEED you to just follow these rules, okay?"

"SO you want me to get all dressed up and act like I'm on some fancy cruise or something when really we're sitting around the dinner table eating lasagna with Gerald's not so girlfriend girlfriend?"

"That's EXACTLY what I want you to do. Pleases and thank yous and no chewing with our mouths open and DEFINITELY no throwing food—"

This perked dad's ears up slightly. "There'd better not be ANY food throwing in this house, even if NOBODY is over, you hear me kids?"

"Yes dad," Tim and I said in unison before I picked back up my itinerary and tapped on the page once more.

"So, can we go over the rules again, please? And SERIOUSLY this time?"

* * *

The table was set. My family was in perfect attire. We'd gone over the rules more times than I was happy with counting. My 'date' was ready for takeoff, now all I had to do was get the woman of honor, Miss Phoebe Heyerdahl.

I was sweatin' bullets, man.

I couldn't believe that everything had finally gotten into place and that my family FINALLY agreed to follow the agenda and talking points I'd given them.

Arnold said I couldn't do it.

But I knew I could. And I DID. Champion status, right here.

"'Kay guys, I'm going to run and get Phoebe now. Think you can handle tonight?"

Timberly rolled her eyes from where she was seated in a flowery dress on the couch. "Sure, nerd, we're ready. You made sure of THAT."

"HEY. Manners, Tim. Point number 10."

"Yeah, yeah," she retorted before returning her attention to reruns of 'Yo Ernest!' on The Ooze channel.

"Ma, you got the music all ready in the kitchen? For ambiance?" I double checked and she flashed me a thumbs up.

"Got it, sweetheart, don't worry. We'll all be on our best behavior."

I gave her a look at the nickname and she pursed her lips before sighing and saying, "Sorry, Gerald. Names only."

"Dad?" I asked while turning to look at him and he sighed.

"Yes, Gerald. I'll be on my best dad behavior. But no funny business or I'll have to break character to set you all in line."

"Right," I agreed happily, just glad that he was in on the whole thing. I'm sure he'd jumped through some hoops for Mom back in the day so I hoped he understood.

Tim on the other hand…

"Are you SURE we have to do all this?" She whined. "I'm tired of this dress. Can't I wear my skinny jeans instead?"

I flashed her a glaring look. "No, Tim. Strictly good attire. I don't want her to think we're sloppy or anything. Only the best. I'm trying to make a good impression, ya know."

"You'll make an impression alright," she mumbled and I frowned while trying to keep my cool.

 _Calm down, Gerald, you GOT this. Arnold may not have approved but you GOT this. NOTHING can go wrong. You have EVERYTHING figured out to a tee._

"All right," I said finally before taking a big breath and letting it out while grabbing my keys. "I'm going to go get Phoebe. NOBODY RUIN ANYTHING, okay? This is a big night for me."

"Yes, Gerald," everyone replied and with a nervous smile, I exited the house en route for Phoebe's; my heart pounding with every mile I drove.

"You can do this, Gerald," I pep talked myself as I pulled off onto the street outside of Phoebe's place. "Your whole family is in on this so NOTHING can go wrong this time. Nothing. You've planed for it ALL." I flipped the keys to turn off the car and shakily made my way outside to walk up her stoop and to knock on the door. "Just remember, smooth. Be smooth. Silky smooth. Get that Gerald Charm on."

Phoebe opened the door.

"Hello Gerald," She said with a smile.

"Hey there Pheebs. Lookin' good tonight," I said with a wink and she giggled while looking down at her attire.

"It's only a dress, Gerald," She said and I grinned.

Oh yeah. Tonight was MY night.

"Don't worry. You'll fit in PERFECTLY with my family," I said confidently and she raised a brow.

"I will?"

 _Oh no, she's already doubting me. Keep it cool, man, keep it cool._

"Of course. We get REAL nice for dinner. Kind of a tradition, you could call it."

 _Lies. Such a lie._ But I had to keep consistent with my dinner party theme, or it could all blow up in my face.

"Well that's interesting. I never pegged your family to be so formal."

I could take that as an insult. I'd rather take it as a compliment.

"Well thanks, Phoebe. They'll be glad to see you. Ready to get going?"

Phoebe smiled and nodded her head, and I offered her my arm to take as we walked down the stoop. I made sure to open the car door for her too, just for that added classy touch, and away we went to my home which was DEFINITELY ready for her arrival.

Come to think of it, I had never BEEN so confident around Phoebe. I knew this was going to work, why had I ever doubted it? I couldn't wait to tell Arnold how smoothly everything went tomorrow at school and I found that my anxiety was melting away with each mile closer to home we got.

Approaching the house, I saw Timberly peek outside the door with a goofy grin on her face, but she couldn't shake me. She WOULDN'T shake me. Not tonight on MY night. This was going to go well, I just knew it.

"You ready for some grade-a lasagna? My mom makes the best. Really flavorful and all that."

"Yes, of course. I could go for some great Italian food."

 _Yes! This was going SWIMMINGLY!_ I congratulated myself and I turned off the car once more after parking and rushed over to Phoebe's side in order to get her door once more.

I was making a GREAT impression, if I do say myself, and this dinner would only seal the deal. I'd have to thank my mom later for the great idea.

Taking Phoebe's arm again to lead her up the stoop, I reached for the door handle only to have it open for me. _Nice touch,_ I thought to myself only to widen my eyes when I saw who was standing in front of us.

"Hey there little bro. Nice date!" Jamie-O greeted me before grabbing me and noogying my head hard before winking to Phoebe. "Mind if I join ya?"

I saw Timberly smirking behind him and my parents giving me a sad look.

My night was ruined. Completely ruined. All that hard work for nothing.

Because NOTHING would change Jamie-O. Not even the beautiful woman standing beside me.

* * *

 _ **Guys. This is my FAVORITE CHAPTER YET. I just loved writing all of this and can't WAIT to show you all the next chapter. Please review and let me know the things you enjoyed about this chapter and keep your eyes peeled for more!**_

 _ **-Polka**_


	9. Dinner Partying

I stared at Jamie-O in shock. What was he doing here? How did he get here? WHY was he even here ANYway? I wanted to punch him. I wanted to slap that smug smile off his face so fast that he never even saw it coming. But I couldn't do that in front of Phoebe. I had to keep up appearances. So with a plastered smile on my face, I said through clenched teeth, "Jamie-O… What are you DOING here?"

"Oh, nothing fancy, not like whatever it is YOU've got cooked up," he said while pointing behind himself with his thumb. "Whatever it is you did to our family, good job lil' bro. They look like they're going to church for the first time since _I_ was a kid."

My cheeks felt hot in that instant and I knew Phoebe was experiencing all of this and it wasn't just happening in my imagination. Jamie-O was here. HERE. TONIGHT on the night of ALL nights.

I glared at him from the door way, my arm still tight with Phoebe's grip. "I take it you were just LEAVING?" I hinted boldly and Jamie-O grinned while shaking his head.

"Nah, bro, just got here. Tim texted me and I was in the neighborhood so I figured I'd drop by for our family dinner night. Just wasn't expecting it to be so…FANCY in here."

I pushed my way passed him with Phoebe in tow and stared down Timberly with the best stank eye I could manage. "Timberly….!"

"What?" She said innocently with a shrug, her hands behind her back. "Whole family means whole family, doesn't it?"

"I oughta—"I started, though Dad was quick to cut in.

"Gerald, how about you start by introducing your friend here to us," he said while ushering us in. "And please close the door, would ya? We don't want any more flies in here than we already have. And with the electric bill already through the roof, we can't afford—"

"Dad!" I exclaimed giving him the 'knock it off' gesture across my throat. "We'll shut the door, okay?" I agreed while closing the door and sucking poor Phoebe into what was sure to be a disaster-filled night.

"Everyone, this is Phoebe Heyerdahl. Phoebe, this is my mom, dad, you remember Timberly and of course," I clenched my jaw before releasing and saying flatly, "Jamie-O as we fondly call him."

"It smells very good in here," Phoebe commented, her eyes glancing around the spotless house after I demanded we cleanup for her arrival. "You really have a lovely house."

"Why thank you, Phoebe," Mom said, at least upholding HER end of the bargain by keeping everything on a first-name basis. "You want to sit down while the food finishes up, hun?"

I thought too soon.

"Of course, Mrs. Johanssen, I'd love to."

"Please, call me—"

"Mrs. Johanssen is fine, Pheebs, don't worry about it," I cut off, trying to keep everything formal and at least semi-normal until the dinner began. There was still time to save this, there had to be. If I could just get Jamie-O alone…

No. I couldn't do that. I couldn't leave Phoebe to Timberly, Mom AND Dad alone. Who KNOWS what they would say or do to scare her away?

"I understand you're making lasagna," Phoebe said while taking a seat on the couch beside me. "I must say, I don't get to have that very often so this will be quite the treat."

"OH yeah," Jamie-O added while plopping down to sit in the middle of both Phoebe and I. "Mom makes the BEST lasagna around. Isn't that right, Gerald?"

"Mmhmm," I hummed while trying to unclench my jaw though I wasn't having much luck. Attempting to push him aside, I leaned over to look at Phoebe from where she was sitting uncomfortably beside him. "You hear the music? I chose it from that presentation you did earlier this year. That dude, Debussy?"

"Ahh, yes, Claire de Lune. Such a remarkable piece. I'm surprised you remember."

"Gerald remembers EVERYTHING. The guys a regular NUT."

"Jamie-O…seriously?"

"What, you are! You can hold quite the grudge too. You know he STILL hasn't forgiven me for noogying him when he walked in with you? You can tell cause he keeps clenching his jaw and when he does that he's BASICALLY saying fu—"

"JAMIE. Please. Can you not?"

"What, man? You're the one being so uptight about this whole deal. I mean you got our family in dinner party attire. Like, what even IS that?"

"Its called being FORMAL and being a DECENT HUMAN BEING, something you don't know that much about, now do ya?"

Jamie-O gestured to his ripped jeans, old t-shirt and leather vest. "I think I look dashing, don't ya think, Phoebe? It IS Phoebe, right? Hard to keep up on all of Gerald's little buddies if you know what I'm talking about."

"His buddies? As in…?" Phoebe asked.

"Eh, what does it matter. It isn't like Gerald is all that popular. Not like _I_ was. The only friend he's ever invited over was Arnold. You know Arnold, don't you?"

"Yes," she said intrigued, "I do. He's dating my best friend."

"Ahh, that Helga chick. MAN she's something, isn't she? Talk about a regular crazy, am I right?"

"Well, I wouldn't say that. She has her moments but she's toned down quite a bit since being with Arnold. He has the tendency to do that with people. He's a really extraordinary guy, isn't he Gerald?" Phoebe asked me and it took a moment to realize she was talking to me.

"Huh? OH uh, yeah. Arnold is a bold kid. A real gem. Look. Food is almost ready, you think we should head in there?" I suggested without letting Phoebe get an answer in edgewise. I offered my hand to her and yanked her up off the couch and away from Jamie-O to lead her into the kitchen where my next problem awaited me.

"Tim, WHAT are you wearing?"

She glanced down at her skinny jeans and flowy top and shrugged. "Jamie-O gets to wear whatever he wants. Why can't I?"

"We already talked about this, Tim," I whispered while holding a smile on my face. "Get back into the dress."

"But I don't wannnnnt to," she whined and I swallowed my pride as Mom chimed in to take the fall for me.

"Why don't you get back into that pretty dress of yours, sweetie. Your big brother would really appreciate it, wouldn't you, Gerald?"

"Yes, yes I would, thank you very much."

She pivoted on her foot and swung around to stomp her way upstairs to her room and slam the door behind her as she changed.

This was NOT going well and Phoebe hadn't even been here a half hour. What ELSE could possibly go wrong?

Jamie-O clunked his way into the kitchen with his boots leaving behind a trail of dirt with each step he took. "Dude," I said while pointing to the mess he was making. "Do you mind?"

"Not a bit, but thanks for asking, squirt," he said with a wink in Phoebe's direction and she smiled at him.

SHE SMILED AT HIM.

What was even HAPPENING around here?!

"Lasagna is all ready, everybody. Let's take a seat and say our prayers."

Prayers? Since when did we do that?

"Mom, I think we'll be alright just to dig in, don't you think?"

"Not without giving thanks first, Gerald," dad agreed and offered me his hand as we sat down around the table, Timberly finally emerging downstairs in a different dress, but a dress nonetheless. "It's good to be grateful about things every once in a while."

Phoebe nodded her head in agreement and took Tim's hand and mine and I felt a shot of electricity hit through my body like a thousand volts.

"Fine," I said, trying not to make the tingles in my hand all that obvious, "but can we make it quick? I'm sure Jamie-O is just dying to get on his way."

"Nah, Gerald. I got all night. Let's do this," he said while taking Tim and Mom's hand and we closed our eyes and bowed our heads, at least all of us but me.

I was too fixated on Phoebe to focus on any kind of prayer or thankfulness. I could be less thankful for the way this night was turning out and I sent out a silent hope that the night would somehow get better.

Unfortunately for me, it appeared nobody was listening.

"Ready for some grub?" Jamie-O asked Phoebe as we finished our thanks and began passing out plates to one another.

"Definitely. It all smells so wonderful. Thank you for inviting me over, Mrs. Johanssen."

Mom tossed her hand as if it wasn't a problem and smiled. "No worries, dear. I love to have Gerald's friends over," she said with a wink and I wanted to scream from where I was sitting.

If Phoebe hadn't figured out something was up yet, I would be completely surprised. This night wasn't going at ALL like my agenda had planned and most of that was thanks to Jamie-O. Everyone else had NO excuse.

Especially Timberly.

She opened her mouth, mid-chew and asked, "Mom, do you have any chocolate milk?"

"No Timberly," Mom answered with a small frown, "we're fresh out."

"Did Gerald drink the last glass AGAIN?" She whined while looking at me with a stern look.

I sent it right back to her and shrugged. "I just can't seem to remember, Tim. Maybe I did, maybe I didn't."

"Gerald!" she exclaimed "That's all I drink at dinner, you know that!"

"Only because you're about as bad as chocolate boy," I retorted and she shook her head.

"Am not" she stated.

"Are too" I snapped back.

"Am not" she repeated.

"Yes, you are too," I insisted, "I've never MET anyone who likes chocolate like you. Don't you remember the chocolate turtles incident?"

Timberly huffed and crossed her arms over her chest. "I was in first grade, can't you let that go? It was just some stupid turtles, Gerald."

"Stupid turtles you had to RUIN, mind you," I reminded her and she stuck her tongue out at me with narrowed eyes in my direction.

"See what I mean about the grudge thing?" Jamie-O added while nudging Phoebe and taking a bite of his lasagna. "The guy just can't let anything go."

"Can't you chew with your mouth closed?" I demanded rather than asked and Jamie-O just smiled; his mouth full of pasta and shrugged.

"Nope," he said while taking another bite and shoving it into his big mouth.

He was gonna regret tonight, that's for sure. Grudges were nothing compared to what I was about to hold against him for tonight's incidents.

"So Phoebe," my mom segued, "you have classes with Gerald, here?"

Phoebe swallowed her food, took a drink of water and nodded her head. "Yes, I do. We share English together."

"But aren't you like super smart?" Jamie-O interrupted. "Why would you share a class like English with Gerald over here?"

"Thanks for the vote of confidence, Jamie," I muttered, though nobody heard me.

"I take extra electives in order to get credit for college. I had an opening and chose English to enroll in. It was a great decision." She smiled my way and I felt the blood rush to my cheeks as she looked at me; her eyes bright and full of something I couldn't quite place.

Maybe that was a good thing?

But I didn't have time to try and figure out what that look meant. I was too busy trying to stop my family from completely embarrassing me in front of the only girl that really mattered; the only girl I'd EVER tried to impress to this degree in my entire existence.

"Eh," Jamie-O said while reaching for more lasagna—his third helping mind you, "English was never my cup of tea."

"Dude," I added while swallowing my own food, "NOTHING was ever your 'cup of tea.' You hardly graduated."

"NOT true," Jamie-O fought back, "I did just fine, thank you."

"Sure ya did." I glanced over to Timberly who had hardly touched her food but had remained silent, for THAT I was thankful. However, the girl was chewing her nails and spitting them to the side of the table and I glowered at her for a moment until she finally looked at me.

"What?" She asked with sourness in her tone.

"Point 12," I whispered, though apparently not quietly enough.

"Point? You give out points at dinner?" Phoebe asked confused and I sat frozen in my spot with lasagna poised to enter my mouth.

"No," Tim replied, "Gerald just had this THING before you came over where he made us—"

"Timberly! Shall we not?" I demanded and she shut her mouth as Phoebe looked between the two of us in confusion.

"I still don't understand," she said while taking a bite of her salad and swallowing first before talking again. "What is a point?"

"Just a silly thing, that's all. Nothing important," I said quickly and Timberly giggled to herself before resuming chewing her nails.

"Well if THAT'S the case," she said before spitting another nail out to the side of the table, and my mom gave her a look that told her to stop which OF COURSE she listened to THEN.

Don't listen to your brother with everything, EVERYTHING at stake, but go ahead and listen to MOM.

I clenched my jaw and closed my eyes for a moment before taking a big breath and letting it out. "So Phoebe, why don't you tell us about YOUR family?"

"Oh, I'm afraid we aren't very interesting."

"Nonsense," Mom said, "I'd love to hear about where you come from."

"Mom…"

"It's alright Gerald. I don't believe she meant it like that." She set her silverware down to the side before clearing her throat and continuing. "I was originally born in Kentucky where my father met my mother on a trip there with his friends from Japan. After a few years of being down there, my family decided to move somewhere else and we picked up and moved to Hillwood when I was just a baby. I've spent most of my life here in Hillwood."

"Well that's interesting," mom said with a smile, "Does your father ever miss Japan?"

"Tremendously," she replied but shrugged. "However, we do go and visit every few years so we can see his family. It's a very nice country with some extraordinary culture."

"Ahh, culture," I said, "wouldn't it be nice if we all had some culture?" I looked around the dinner table at my family and they all averted their eyes from me as I did so.

"I believe everyone has culture, Gerald," Phoebe said and I looked at her wide-eyed from where I sat beside her. "Culture is nothing but the way we live our lives. Everyone's culture is different if you look at it that way."

"Very wise," Dad commented with a nod while eating his salad. "Your girl here is quite the introspective, don't you think so, Gerald?"

My girl. How COULD he say that more embarrassingly? I mean, she wasn't even my girl, yet. That was kind of the point of this whole dinner was to MAKE her my girl. Mm mm mm, this was a wreck.

But Phoebe didn't seem to notice and I sighed in relief. "Yeah dad, she's really something," I decided on, not trying to overly compliment in hopes at getting on her good side.

"So does that mean you follow a bunch of Japanese stuff at home?" Timberly chimed in and I looked over to Phoebe as she responded.

"Some things, yes. We eat on the floor which is very different than most people. And we often have sushi which some people find abhorrent."

"What does THAT mean?" Tim asked and I smiled as Phoebe translated her smart-talk for her.

"Disgusting is one word you could use. However, I find it to be quite refreshing to the palate."

"Oh, me too," I said, Jamie-O laughing from where he sat.

"Like YOU've ever tried sushi. You'd probably throw up, ya wimp."

"I'm no wimp, Jamie-O. And besides, I'm not picky like SOMEone at this table."

"I am NOT picky!" Tim insisted and I gestured to her plate with a smirk.

"So why ELSE have you hardly eaten, huh?" I prodded without thinking and Timberly only frowned and leaned over the table at me to whisper in my direction.

"Maybe I'm just trying to follow some stupid rules, Gerald."

"Enough you two," Dad halted us before pointing to his plate. "Worry about your own food, will you Gerald? It's her choice if she wants to eat or not."

"See?" She said before grinning and taking a sip from her water. " _I_ can do what I want."

"Not exactly. You still are only like what, twelve?"

"Almost fifteen, you jerk, you know that. _I_ can almost drive just like you."

"Well that's very exciting," Phoebe said, lightening the mood almost instantaneously. "Are you eager at the thought of driving soon?"

"Very. Even though mom lets me drive sometimes in the grocery store parking lot."

"She WHAT?" Dad exclaimed and I facepalmed myself at the direction this was heading, even with Phoebe's help.

"Just a few drive-arounds, that's all."

"And if she HIT something?" He continued with slight anger in his voice, "Can you imagine how much our insurance would go up? We'd be paying—"

"Honey," mom said, stopping him in his tracks, "there weren't any cars around, don't worry. And besides, Timberly did a fine job."

"Hear THAT Gerald? I did a GREAT job."

"I believe she said fine, Tim," Jamie-O said and he gave her a funny face which she laughed at before finally touching some of the food on her plate ahead of her.

After that, all things considered, the rest of the night went pretty well. Jamie-O made some bad jokes and picked at his teeth a bit, but Phoebe seemed not too afraid of his poor manners and laughed at most of what he said—something I was NOT expecting. Tim complained a bit about having to eat salad without Ranch dressing, but other than that she seemed on pretty good behavior; thanks to mom that is. Dad stayed quiet most of the dinner, only chiming in to ask a few questions regarding Phoebe's family dynamic, but he stopped with all the money talk which was a relief on my part as he can drone on and on about that kind of thing for hours given the chance.

It wasn't bad. It was a little horrible, but it wasn't bad and so by the time dessert rolled around, I'd chilled out quite a bit.

Until the mention of 'dessert' came up, that is.

"Well Ma, that was an excellent dinner, I gotta say I'm looking forward to whatever you've got cooked up for dessert," I said as I put mine and Phoebe's dishes into the sink and rinsed them off.

"Oh honey, I don't have dessert planned. Just the lasagna and fixings."

My eyes widened and I set our dishes in the dishwasher and turned around. "No dessert? But mom, this is a DINNER. Like a full dinner. You organized it."

"Well, I'd beg to differ on who planned it exactly, Gerald, but I didn't have time to make a dessert."

"I think your mother did a first-rate job of cooking tonight," Phoebe said with a smile. "I don't even think I'd have room for dessert if there was one."

Phoebe's comment missed my ears and I stood staring at my mom in shock. The dinner wasn't complete without dessert. Dessert is the main impresser of an evening and without that, the night wasn't quite right. It wasn't a dinner party without a dessert.

But I had to let it go, as Phoebe was quick to drown out any possible response I'd have—almost as if she knew it would set me off and she had to diffuse me in SOME way.

"Gerald, it's fine," she said happily, "I have to be heading home anyway as I have to tutor tomorrow during lunch and I need to prepare my notes for that. It really isn't a big deal—I'm quite satisfied."

"Why thank you, Phoebe," Mom said as she finished putting the few leftovers into Tupperware, then placing them strategically into the fridge. "I'm sorry for not having a dessert like Gerald apparently thought I should."

I frowned and Phoebe shrugged with a smile still on her face. "I'm just gracious to have had dinner with your family tonight. Thank you again for inviting me." She stood up from the table and gestured towards me with her head. "Ready to head out?"

* * *

Sitting in the car, Phoebe seemed pleased, and I couldn't understand just what she could be so happy about after all that had happened tonight. I felt she needed an apology, an earnest one at that, and so on our way to her house, that's exactly what I did.

"Look," I started, "I'm sorry for my family, Pheebs, they're really stubborn and I couldn't make them follow any of the rules I'd set in place."

"Rules?" She questioned with a concerned look on her face. "What kind of rules?"

I smirked thinking about all the work I'd put into tonight that Jamie-O had singlehandedly ruined. "Rules that Jamie-O CLEARLY doesn't believe in following, THAT'S for sure," I said, my face contorting into that of disgust and I shook my head. "I just hope they didn't scare you off too bad."

Phoebe turned to look at me and smirked. "Scare me off from what, Gerald?"

"Oh uh, well, you know. Just, scare you off into running down the streets calling for a cab, that's all." She turned away from me and I glanced over at her in between watching the road. "I mean, they can be quite the handful."

Phoebe didn't seem to buy my apology. Instead, she let out THIS whopper of a response: "On the contrary, I had quite a fun time."

"You-you DID?" I asked in surprise and she nodded her head.

"Certainly. I've never been around such a lively group of people before. And they all seem to care a great deal for you to put up with whatever rules you gave them, even if they didn't follow them according to you. Though why you would give them rules is beyond my knowledge."

I shrugged my shoulders and turned onto Phoebe's street. "They were stupid rules, really."

"Well," she said, "what exactly were they?"

"Oh I dunno," I said while reaching up to scratch at my head. "Not to use pet names, chew with their mouths closed, follow the talking points, just stupid stuff really." I smiled to myself thinking of how dumb they sounded once I'd said them out loud. "It's kinda funny when you think about it."

"Funny how? You tried to stage your family for me?" she asked, perplexed at the concept of it all.

"Well, sorta," I responded while glancing over to look at her again.

"Why not just let them be who they are, Gerald?" she asked bluntly. "They're your family after all."

Damn that Arnold and his always having to be right.

But even if Arnold WAS right, it didn't stop me from apologizing for my family anyway and insisting _I_ was right in having to change them myself.

"Because, Pheebs," I said while turning my blinker on to pull over at the front of Phoebe's house, "They're a lot to handle and you shouldn't have to deal with all their chaos they can cause. It was for your own good."

"My own good, huh?" She deadpanned and I immediately knew I'd made a mistake.

But it was too late to take back my words.

"Well, yeah," I said hesitantly waiting for whatever was to come next from my actions.

"You can't just assume for me my best interest. I think I can handle myself."

"But you don't KNOW my family, Pheebs," I said desparately. "Tonight they were on their best behavior, believe it or not, with the exception of Jamie-O. He's the worst one."

"I found him to be just fine, Gerald," she surprisingly said before saying something even MORE surprising. "To be frank, it was _you_ who seemed to be really off tonight."

"Me?!" I exclaimed in shock. I'd followed all of my own rules and above all put Phoebe first. How was this all suddenly my fault? My family had been on good behavior, yes, but they were still THEM and in my opinion, ruined what could have been a perfect night. How was this all on MY shoulders?

"I don't think you understand," I said and she laughed a laugh without humor to it.

"I don't think _you_ understand, Gerald. In relationships, one cannot simply assume what is best for the other. One can be concerned, but not assume. Aside from being a great way to remember how to spell the word assume, I was always taught that to assume makes an ass out of you and me and that is what you should take away from tonight."

It was weird to hear Phoebe swear, and I knew from her tone that she wasn't happy. Despite it all, I kept going, insistent that what I did wasn't wrong at all.

"Ass out of you and me," I repeated and then scoffed, "you have GOT to be kidding me. I did this ALL for YOU, tonight, you know."

"I _do_ know, however, I also know that you shouldn't have tried to make your family change all for me. I would have had to meet them in their natural state eventually, now wouldn't I?"

I guess she had a point. But before I could admit my wrongdoing, she sighed and opened up the door of the car to exit. "Goodnight, Gerald. Believe it or not, your family is quite charming and that is nothing to be ashamed of. I only wish you had enough faith in them and me to see beyond their flaws. Instead, I found a flaw in you and that's not what I had hoped for this evening."

"But Phoebe," I called after her, but she was already out of the car and closed the door on me before I could try and change anything that I'd done or said.

I was doomed.

Why couldn't I have just listened to Arnold? Why couldn't I have just been proud of the family I have instead of ashamed at who they all were? Arnold had always loved my family, so why did I think Phoebe would hate them so much? I'd made a mistake graver than the one at the movies and this time there wouldn't be any third chances.

Unless…

Helga. I hated to admit it, but Helga was the key to fixing all that I'd messed up. If I talked to her tomorrow while Phoebe was tutoring, I stood at least one more chance in getting Phoebe to see what a great person I really am and how perfect we are for each other if she'd just give me this last chance.

Maybe I'd falsified all I was and all I stood for but there was time to fix it. I mean, there HAD to be a chance to fix all this.

Wasn't there?

* * *

 _ **THIS chapter, THIS CHAPTER RIGHT HERE is the best hands down. i've read this chapter at least 9 times and fall more in love with it each time i read it. please be sure to review this one as this chapter is my most important one yet. i'd love to know what you think!**_

 _ **Please review!**_

 ** _-Polka_**


	10. Advice from the Source

I woke up the next morning anxious to talk to Helga. THAT was saying a lot seeing as I hardly talked to the girl unless it was necessary or inevitable. Not that I had a whole lot AGAINST Helga, but we'd never been fans of each other ever since I can remember.

Arnold claims it's because we were too alike but I would never classify Helga and I in the same category unless it was based on wit. The girl was quick, I'd give her that.

Either way, I couldn't hardly wait for lunch which was slowly approaching as I went to all my classes—even English where Phoebe chose to read all during reading hour instead of whisper with me in the back corner like I tried to do.

It only made everything feel even MORE hopeless than it had in the FIRST place.

"I'm just not so sure this is going to work," I told Arnold as we stood at my locker talking in between our last class before lunch. "Talking to Helga is one thing, but her advice actually working is another."

"I think that all depends on whether or not you follow the advice or decide to do things your own way again like you have before," Arnold said as he stood by my locker waiting for me to open it.

I fiddled with the lock as Arnold continued to talk, my eyes and mind drifting from what he was saying to across the hall where Phoebe was talking with Helga about something Helga must have been pretty passionate about.

"I think Phoebe is a smart girl," Arnold was saying, my eyes still locked on Phoebe from where she was gathering books across the hall, "and I think that given the chance, you can show her who you really are and she'll accept you just fine. But you have to give her a chance to do that, Gerald."

Phoebe's eyes glanced over to meet mine for just a second before they drifted away and she closed her locker only to follow Helga down the hall to whichever class she had next. As soon as they were out of sight, I opened my locker and sighed, deciding to answer Arnold.

"I THOUGHT what I was doing was RIGHT, man. I thought that being this smart, suave somebody, I could impress her the way she should be impressed with someone." The words came out sad and full of disappointment; Arnold picking up on it right away and he offered me a sad smile.

"Wouldn't it be much better if she was impressed by the _real_ you? The you that I get to see and the you that makes you my best friend," he said sincerely and I frowned while finishing gathering my books and closing my locker.

"Arnold," I said flatly, "the only person impressed by me is RHONDA and that's not saying a whole lot."

"You don't know that, Gerald," Arnold reassured me, "for all you know, Phoebe was already impressed with you from before you started your crazy mission to impress her by being smart and suave."

I rolled my eyes as I gathered my books and shut my locker. "I doubt that. I've never done anything but talk nonsense to her about music and stuff."

"But those are things you're passionate about," Arnold said as we began to walk to our next class which we shared together, "and trust me when I say, from experience, the things we're passionate about can impress others beyond a doubt."

"But it's just MUSIC, Arnold. And stupid little diddies I write to be funny."

"And humor is one of the main things people find attractive about other people," Arnold countered, "have you ever thought of that?"

I shrugged my shoulders. "Not really. I guess I don't consider myself all that funny. I'm just sarcastic."

"And so is Helga, but that's one of the things I love about her."

"Love, huh?" I asked with a sly smile and Arnold nudged me from where he walked beside me.

"Hey, we're talking about _you_ , remember?"

I smirked. "Really? I'd forgot."

"Well listen to what I have to say, really listen to what _Helga_ has to say and decide from there what is smartest to do, even if it's the most uncomfortable," Arnold advised as we approached our classroom and entered it. "Sometimes being your raw, true self is what's most important."

"Was it with you and Helga?" I asked bluntly and Arnold nodded his head.

"Yes, as a matter of fact, it was. Helga had to do the uncomfortable thing and break down those walls for me to see who she truly was. And once she did that, I fell for her the way she'd always wanted me to."

I sighed as we took our seats and set our bookbags down beside our desks. "That's sweet and all, but how do I know it'll work with Phoebe? What if I DO that, break down my 'walls', and it doesn't matter in the slightest?"

Arnold nodded his head as if taking in all I'd said before responding. "That's the risk you've got to take when it comes to relationships, Gerald."

He was right. He was freakin' right, like always. I spent most of class thinking about all he'd said; thinking about how vulnerable it would feel to let down my guard and show Phoebe who I really was without filtering out all the bad stuff. Would it really work? COULD it really work to show her who I was deep down inside? Hell, I hardly knew what was deep down inside. What if she hated it? What if I ended up vulnerable and alone wishing I hadn't taken the risk?

I guess it's all I could do now. Life doesn't give you endless chances and even if it did, I'm sure I'd blow every one given the option. But Phoebe was different. I WANTED more chances—I needed them. There was something about her that just made me want her to want me more than anything else in the entire world.

Thinking about it only made me more anxious for lunch than ever. I HAD to talk to Pataki and see what her insider knowledge already new. Maybe then I could figure out the calculated risk and decide whether or not it was even worth it to try this one last time.

* * *

Helga sat at the table where she was usually joined by Phoebe or Arnold, but today sat alone. I approached her with my tray full of food and nodded towards the empty spot beside her. "Mind if I join ya?" I asked, Helga glancing up from her book as if to figure out who was talking to her and she shrugged.

"Sure, Geraldo, though I don't know why the sudden interest, I'm just reading," she said before returning to her book and turning the page, still completely enthralled.

"See that's the thing, Pataki, I kinda wanted to talk to you about something."

"About your fiasco of a date last night?" She predicted while reading on to the next page and taking a bite of her apple. "Heard all about it. Props to that last convo by the way. You really showed her some colors even _I_ didn't know about."

"That's just why I want to talk to you," I forced the words out before swallowing hard and trying to make the next ones follow suit. "I-I…I uh, well, you see, I sorta-"

"Just out with it already, Tall Hair boy, I have another chapter to read before next period," she pressed on and I finally spit out the words I had been trying not to say though I desperately needed to.

"I need your help, Helga. Like… badly."

"I'll say," she said before marking her page in the book and finally setting it down. "But you have my attention, so what answers do you need?"

"It's not so much answers as I need… GOD it's so hard to say this out loud, why?" I wondered and Helga gave me a side eye that emitted more questions than answers.

"Advice? Is THAT the word you're looking for smart guy?" She asked and I nodded my head while snapping my fingers in agreement.

"THAT'S it. I need advice. BAD."

"Easy," she said while taking another bite of her apple, "how about you stop with all the shenanigans and just be your boring self? Although, I'm sure Arnoldo has already told you that one, hasn't he?"

I stared at her wide-eyed and nodded my head a few times at her remarkably accurate guess.

"So why don't you LISTEN to the kid and follow what he's telling you? He's right, ya know, as much as you may want him to be wrong, he's always right. Just give into it already."

"But why do you say that? Why do you two BOTH agree that I should just 'be myself?' As if it's that easy."

"It IS that easy, Johanssen," she said while waving her half-eaten apple around as she talked. "Just cut the crap, forget EVERYTHING you've EVER HEARD about impressing women, and just BE YOU, okay? You do you and the rest will just fall into place. Trust me."

"And why should I? How do I know you aren't sabotaging me for the sake of keeping Phoebe all to yourself?" I blurted out angrily and Helga cooly closed her eyes and took a breath before opening them once again.

Helga smiled to herself before slowly turning her head to look me dead in the eyes. "Few points here and I'm not going to repeat myself, so don't think about asking me to do so, got it?" Her voice had a stern handle to it and I couldn't help from sitting silently and nodding my head; my instincts telling me what Helga had to say wouldn't be easy to hear, but something I had to hear anyway.

 _Well, here we go,_ I thought and Helga finished her apple before licking her fingers and sighing. "First off," she said in between licks, "do you REALIZE how completely ridiculous you sound? ME sabatoging Phoebe's life all for the sake of selfishness? Pssh, what kind of 'friend' do you think I am? Mind your words next time, some thoughts are better left as thoughts and THAT is point number one."

"Point number one? Your response is by points and subpoints?" I thought out loud, the memories of last night's thrown-out agenda stuck in my mind.

"Don't interrupt, you realize _I'm_ the one helping _you_ , right? My turf, my rules. Second point," she began and I leaned in to listen to what her next words were going to be. "WHY would I sabatoge my own best friend? Especially when it comes to some guy she CLEARLY likes a lot. That would just be rude of me, don't ya think?"

"She likes me? She actually likes me like that? Even after all this?" I asked instantaneously and Helga shrugged while reaching for a bite of her salad.

"I mean she talks about you all the time and cares about what YOU think and all that jazz, so I'm pretty sure that means she has a thing for you," her words were blunt and obvious sounding, as if I should have figured it all out myself. "And DESPITE your crazy hair-brained ideas of impressing her which only turns her off more. I swear, Johanssen, if I didn't know any better, there isn't even a brain under all that hair of yours. If there IS, you're hiding it pretty well."

"Why do you say THAT," I demanded, though Helga didn't get any angrier and instead continued on in a calm, cool voice.

"Well that brings me to point number 3, bucko, and you'd better be listening up because this one is important," she said and I pushed my tray aside to lean on the table and listen intently at Helga's next few words.

"Okay? I'm listening…" I reassured her and she huffed before turning to look at me fully from where I sat beside her.

"Stop trying so hard, Gerald," she said bluntly, my eyes widening at the simplicity of her statement. "You're trying so hard that you're missing all these awesome chances with Phoebe and you're just throwing them out the window."

"How, how so?"

"How so? Are you kidding? You need me to spell it out for you? Foreign movie night—you could have just gone and enjoyed being with Phoebe. Dinner night at your house, you could have just relished in the fact that she wanted to meet your family, your WHOLE family good and bad. That's the thing about Pheebs, she just wants to experience life and let things fall into her lap, not have it all planned out. She plans EVERYTHING, but yet nothing at the same time. Did you know the poor girl doesn't even believe in love because she, like you, is too afraid to let it all in?"

I couldn't picture Phoebe afraid of anything, much less love. She seemed so confident and so sure of herself—so independent and proud of who she was… not afraid of something like love.

But then again, Helga said I was afraid too and while half of me thought she was wrong and messed up to lie like that, the other part of me knew she was right. I had never been in a serious relationship—most of my 'dating' experience was telling Rhonda to buzz off after school and look at Phoebe from across the hallway. That was it.

But was I really afraid of love? Was I really afraid of getting what I wanted and then messing it up entirely? Yes. Incredibly so, yes, yes, and YES, I was. What happens if I DO get Phoebe and then I blow it all up bigtime? There's no telling what my brain will say at any given chance so maybe, subconsciously, I was ruining my own dates so I couldn't ruin them in the future.

As if that made any sense to anyone but me.

"You know," Helga said pulling me from my thoughts, "I used to be the same way. Before Arnold and I got together, that is," she explained before ultimately finishing her food and pushing her tray aside so she could lean on the table more fully.

"How? The bullying thing?" I asked and she nodded her head while taking a sip of her chocolate milk carton; emptying it in one full gulp.

"Yes the bullying thing, criminy, you were THERE for it all," she exclaimed while shaking her head with a smile. "I was so young and so naïve—so afraid to feel my feelings that I felt them too strongly and pushed everyone I cared about away; even Phoebe a few times.," she admitted and sighed. "I guess if you're afraid to feel love and accept it, you have a way of pushing it far away until it eats you up and destroys your relationship. I was just lucky I had Arnold who is LITERALLY understanding of EVERYTHING known to man."

"Yeah, you kinda lucked out there, Pataki," I agreed, Helga reaching for her book once more and flipping through the pages absentmindedly.

"Not saying it wasn't hard to get to him, it was, and it will be for you too." I furrowed my brow at his and she sighed before explaining further, "You'll have to get over yourself long enough to say, 'Here I am, take me or leave me' and it's a scary thought and all, but you have to do it."

"I do?"

"You do, Johanssen. Otherwise, you'll spend the rest of your life wishing you did."

She had a point. But what was I going to do to break down all those walls?I had to ask Helga, she was the romantic out of everyone I knew and the only chance I had left at fixing all my mistakes.

"So what do I do?" I asked earnestly, my pulse racing at the thought of talking about my love life with Helga G. Pataki.

"Well," she started thoughtfully, "for starters, you could put yourself out there. Like REALLY put yourself out there and apologize for how weird you've been acting."

"Apologize? Really? THAT'S your grand advice?"

"I didn't say it'd be life-changing, I just say it'll be harder to do than you think." She set her book down and twisted to look at me straight on, her blue eyes meeting mine and holding them as she talked. "Imagine it, just for a second. Imagine telling her everything you feel and just putting it out on the line—a confession if you will."

I shook my head, "I could never do that."

"Well you'll have to figure out how, buddy, cause time WILL run out if you don't try to fix it. That's just my two cents, but if I were you, I'd act now."

Rolling my eyes in more fear than sarcasm, I said, "And say what?"

"Apologize, doi! Apologize and admit you messed up. Admit you faked the date to try to impress her, admit you forced your family to be something they're not for her, and admit that you care for her and want a chance to show that to her. What IS it you're so scared of?"

That was the question, what could it be that had me so scared of admitting defeat and just putting all my cards out on the table for Phoebe to see? Was it that scared of love thing or just scared in general? I'd never been one to back down from fear. Even years ago in the jungle I wasn't afraid so what was it about a crush that made me buckle at my knees and want to throw everything out the window?

I wasn't sure, but I knew one thing. If it was ANYTHING Helga had taught me, it was that I had to get my feelings out and I had to get them OUT there. The problem was just when and how could I achieve such a big apology? Especially in THIS school?

* * *

I watched as Phoebe got her books from her locker in prep for her last class of the day, my eyes locked on her as I tried to encourage myself enough to get the nerve to go up and talk to her the way Helga said I should.

"Whattya doing?" A voice rang out from behind me and I sighed before turning around to face the perfectly made-up Rhonda Wellington Lloyd standing now in front of me.

"What do you want, Rhonda," I deadpanned, my eyes narrowing in on her as she shrugged her shoulders and crossed her arms over her chest.

"I was just in the neighborhood, " she stated, "when I noticed a big fish staring at another fish from a different pond."

I rolled my eyes, "I don't have time for you and your stupid clique rules, Rhonda, I have to go," I tried to push away from her but she blocked me in every direction somehow so I stayed put and stared blankly at her as she began her rant. "WHAT is it you WANT," I demanded her eyes widening as she was taken aback by my sudden outburst.

"A date. A solid date between you and me to finish this tension we have going on once and for all."

"There IS no tension, Rhonda, are you blind?"

"I think it's _you_ that's blind, Gerald. Open your eyes. The hottest girl in school is asking YOU out. You should be thrilled." She said with a ferocious smile and I ignored her efforts.

"Yeah, but I'm not, and honestly," I said, slightly agitated, "I'm more just annoyed you won't leave me alone."

This rightfully pissed her off and she dropped her arms to her sides.

"Fine, Gerald, but remember this, I can RUIN you, you hear me?" she said with a point into my chest and a hard one at that.

"And how do you plan on managing that, huh?" I asked, fury laced in my words at her lame threat that had no power here.

"Your perfect Johanssen name will be tainted if you swim that far out of your pond, Gerald," she said, speaking in metaphors I couldn't care less about. "I know about you and Phoebe and the whole school can know too if you aren't careful."

I laughed in her face and shook my head, "And HOW is this a threat? Don't you think I'd LIKE for the whole school to think and know I was with Phoebe?" I tried to pass her again without such luck and then said, "Newsflash: that's kind of all I've been trying to do for weeks now."

"Trust me, I'm aware. I know EVERYTHING that goes on in these halls," she threatened and I smirked.

"Sure, Rhonda. Then tell me, WHO is it I'm interested in again?"

"Phoebe Heyerdahl," she instantly replied and I raised a brow. "Good… now, WHO is it I DON'T like no matter HOW many times she asks me out?"

Her face dropped and she immediately sighed and pointed a lone manicured nail in my direction. "I'm telling you, Gerald, swim too close and I'll bite."

"Do your worst, Lloyd," I egged her on before at last passing her and making my way towards Phoebe's locker where she was preparing for her final class still.

I was just glad Rhonda didn't hold me up TOO long.

"Pheebs" I called out to get her attention and she looked up to see me coming—and she smiled.

She SMILED.

"Hello Gerald, good to see you again, but I'm afraid I am running late to my next class so I'll have to be—"

"Just give me a minute, okay?" I huffed out after running to get to her locker in hopes she'd stop and wait for me, which she had.

 _Okay, Gerald, this is your big moment,_ I told myself, my palms sweating and my knees weak. _Just let it out, let it all out._

"Yes Gerald?" Phoebe pushed and I realized I'd been standing silent for nearly a minute now.

"Sorry, it's just, well, Pheebs," I began before letting out a pent up breath and finally saying, "I owe you an apology, and a pretty big one at that."

Her eyebrows scrunched together and she looked at me curiously. "Apologize for what?"

 _Here we go…_

"For not being _Gerald_ —for not being the real me. I faked my knowledge about foreign films; I really just stayed up all night reading the summaries online and I forced my family to be somebody they're not all in hopes of impressing you." I took a deep breath as Phoebe watched me intently before continuing on.

"It's just that-that I'm not SMART like you. I'm good at sports and music and that's about it. We're two fish from different ponds," I said, stealing Rhonda's absurd line and making it something better entirely. "But just because we are doesn't mean we can't swim…together."

Phoebe watched me for a moment as the warning bell went off and she completely ignored it—a rare occasion for Phoebe Heyerdahl. What I said must had worked or she'd have taken off completely by now, right?

"I'm not sure I understand what you're trying to say, Gerald," she replied instead and I huffed before trying again—one last time –to let the walls down completely and be the person Arnold and Helga keep telling me I should be; me.

"Look, I like you Pheebs. I like you a lot and I don't want some class hierarchy to ruin something I think could be great—and that's us. Who says Arnold and Helga are the only ones who get to be happy like that?" I questioned her and she shut her locker softly.

"I don't know, Gerald," she said but something inside me told me she DID know and I wanted to get it out of her.

"Just know that those things; the cliques and 'way things work around here'—those things don't matter to me, alright? Those things mean absolutely nothing to me. The only thing that means anything to me, is you and that you're happy and that's something I really think I could do; if you'd let me that is."

She stared at me, her eyes wide though she had no response. The hallways were beginning to empty and it was only a matter of time before Phoebe took off leaving me without an answer.

But she wasn't giving one now, so I figured, whatever—I tried, and shoved my hands into my pockets while shrugging. "I just had to get that out there. So YOU know." I said and with that, I turned around and walked down the hallway alone, just waiting for Phoebe to holler me down and stop me from skipping class to go cry some manly man tears in my car.

* * *

 _ **So this chapter is the next to the last and i really hope you're enjoying this story. please leave a review, i'm dying to know what you're all thinking of this fic and how you think it's going to wrap up!**_

 _ **-Polka**_


	11. Don't You Forget About Me

**~Phoebe~**

I was in a hurry. My tutoring session took far longer than expected and while I was happy to help a fellow student pass their classes with my assistance, I didn't enjoy having to stay late passed my free hour. Whenever this happened, I ran incredibly close to being late for my last class and with my perfect attendance on the line, it always made me antsy to say the least.

That's why when a voice rang out with my name, I was startled and just a little agitated; even if it was Gerald.

"Pheebs" Gerald said while approaching me at a fast pace as if in desperate need to talk with me.

"Hello Gerald, good to see you again," I said rapidly, the words pouring out of me faster than I could manage to think them. "But I'm afraid I am running late to my next class so I'll have to be—"

"Just give me a minute, okay?" His eyes were that of a puppy dog's and I couldn't help but give him at least a spare moment of my time.

I sighed and offered him a smile. "Yes Gerald?"

This sent him into a panic almost; his words rushed as if he might miss me though I was going nowhere. "Sorry, it's just, well, Pheebs," he began before letting out a big breath and starting again. "I owe you an apology, and a pretty big one at that."

I furrowed my brows in confusion as to what he was rambling about. "Apologize to me for what?"

Gerald sighed, his hands shoving deep into his pockets as he talked. "For not being _Gerald_ —for not being the real me. I faked my knowledge about foreign films—" something I already had figured out for myself, "—I really just stayed up all night reading the summaries online and I forced my family to be somebody they're not all in hopes of impressing you." He took a deep breath as I watched him intently, my eyes refusing to leave his.

What made him apologize all of a sudden? Why to me now just before the day was over and not tomorrow in English class when it would be much simpler to do so? Whatever it was he believed he was doing, it was very important and I nodded my head to reassure him I was listening to his every scrambled word.

"It's just that-that," he stuttered before gaining control of himself and pressing onward, "I'm not SMART like you. I'm good at sports and music and that's about it." I opened my mouth to correct him, but he was on a roll and I couldn't get a word in edgewise. "We're two fish from different ponds, but just because we are doesn't mean we can't swim…together."

I watched him attentively as the warning bell alarmed signaling it was time to move on to my final class, however, Gerald's words had me frozen in place. I _was_ smart, yes, but when it came to matters of the heart I was baffled and had no idea how to proceed in such situations.

Unfortunately for me, this was one of those situations.

Finally, after thinking over Gerald's motives for apologizing so suddenly, I spoke. "I'm not sure I understand what you're trying to say, Gerald," I managed, though deep inside I was pretty sure I knew just what it was he was asking of me.

Despite it all, he took a deep breath and exhaled before giving it one last try—a big push for someone like Gerald who liked to keep his feelings to himself rather than expose them to people; especially people like me.

His words, however, surprised me.

"Look, I like you Pheebs," He began with a small smile on his face. "I like you a lot and I don't want some class hierarchy to ruin something I think could be great—and that's us." Us? Us as in him and me? Together as a pair or a couple at that? His eyes searched mine as he continued on, his mission nearly complete with the speed at which he was talking. "Who says Arnold and Helga are the only ones who get to be happy like that?" He blurted out and I found myself at a loss for words.

I supposed I'd never considered such a thing before, my own romantic happiness. At least not until recently.

Not until Gerald, that is.

As for Arnold and Helga, it seemed so easy for them. They weren't in many extracurriculars like Gerald and I were, and it wasn't difficult for them to carve out time for one another. Gerald and I on the other hand would have many obstacles and hurdles to get through if we were to pursue a relationship together. There would be many times we simply wouldn't have time for the other and many nights that we would go without speaking, other than in school that is.

However, it could be worth it. As he said previously, we could be great together the two of us. It was just a matter of how great and how worth the sacrifices we would have to make for each other would be.

"I don't know, Gerald," I said but something inside of me told me that I _was_ aware of just what was going on between the two of us in the ever-dwindling hallway. A part of me knew exactly what was happening yet I was blind to it all and feared that I wanted to be blind to it.

Yet, a small part inside of me wanted this chance between the two of us to be real and wanted something out of the relationship we'd built and could continue to build given the right opportunity.

Could this really be the right moment for us? Had things really timed themselves out to the perfect prospect in which we could be together and not regret it for a second?

Gerald spoke then, tearing me from my own thoughts to say, "Just know that those things- " he said while pointing over his shoulder to nobody in particular, "-the cliques and 'way things work around here,' those things don't matter to me, alright? Those things mean absolutely nothing to me." He was trying hard, I could see that. Whatever or whomever had pushed him to do this was strong within him and he wasn't giving up—not this time. "The only thing that means anything to me," he insisted, "is YOU and that you're happy and that's something I really think I could do; if you'd let me that is."

The hallways grew emptier as Gerald awaited my response, though my eyes were wide with skepticism and fear—two feelings that made my head spin where I stood on the tiled ground. I couldn't muster up a response if my life depended on it. Sure, I would love to be with Gerald in a romantic way. He was funny and smart—in his own way, and not afraid of much of anything not to mention he was rather good-looking now that he'd surpassed the awkwardness of puberty, but something about the idea of a relationship frightened me. To be in one, one had to give up so many things; privacy, space, piece of mind in some occasions, but most of all one had to give up their own heart for the other and I wasn't sure how ready for that I was.

I was still focused on school and getting into a good one at that. I wanted to live a fantastical life the way I'd always dreamed—travelling, seeing the world and exploring all of its wonders. Yet, who was I to fight away the option of having someone to come with me on those expeditions? Even the option of having somebody there throughout the rest of school and possibly into that of college _was_ rather appealing. So who was I to push somebody away who truly cared about me and could make me happy in a way I'd never known before?

Because Gerald _could_ make me happy, I was sure of it. And in all honesty, that terrified me too.

I took too long to think however because it was just moments later that Gerald sighed and shook his head. "I just had to get that out there," he said, now self-consciously, "So YOU know."

With his final words said, he pivoted on his foot and turned around to walk away, his steps slow but deliberate. In a burst of spontaneity, I called out for him, my words shaky and unsure.

"Gerald, wh-where are you going?" I asked, him halting where he stood and turning around to face me from a few feet away.

"Class," he responded with a shrug. "I'm skipping it."

"You're skipping last period?" I asked in near shock though he didn't seem too surprised at my question.

I suppose I was a little predictable when it came to the rights and wrongs of the world, including high school.

"Well yeah, why not," he said before giving me a wicked grin. "I'm being, what's the word, impulsive."

Impulsive. That was something I had very little experience in. Most everything in my life was planned or chosen very strategically; not by sheer impulse. However, Helga _was_ always telling me to do something random for once and perhaps this was just the thing to do.

But throw away my entire perfect attendance? For one impromptu 'date?' I couldn't believe I was even considering such a sporadic decision. On the one hand, it would certainly be interesting. I'd never skipped school before. Not to mention this could perhaps be the date that I had been waiting for with Gerald—with the _real_ Gerald Johanssen -the one that made butterflies evoke inside of my stomach since before this year began; since before many things had begun.

Since before cliques and groups and all the other things that would want us far apart, I had had feelings for Gerald. That was something I was sure of. However, once being in middle school and high school, those feelings fell away as I began to focus solely on school—the one thing I was good at. It wasn't until this year when we had English together that those feelings began to emerge yet again and as hard as I might try, including as hard as Gerald may try even if it was unintentional, they weren't going away.

So did I go with him, or did I stay behind and live my life the way I'd always planned it to be? Should I follow that which I was told to do instead of taking chances and living life to its fullest potential?

Gerald remained staring at me from the Hallway as I stared back at him, ideas swarming my head. With the bite of my lip, I whispered out, "I'll come."

"You'll what?" He hollered across the hallway and I giggled at how loud he was.

Impulsively, I hollered back, "I'll come with!"

"You, you will? Really? Cause if you're pulling my leg, this isn't funny, Pheebs," he said with a raised brow and I shook my head opening my locker to deposit my books back for the day.

"No Gerald, I'll come," I said shutting my locker once again before facing him and offering him a grin all my own. "But, on one condition."

"Alright Miss Heyerdahl," he said pleased with where our conversation was headed, "and what would that condition be?"

"You take me out. On a date. A _real_ date, not one that you _think_ will impress me," I said bluntly, my impulsions taking over the best of me and all my good intentions. I was putting Gerald on the spot and waiting for him to deliver.

Which is just what he did.

Without taking any time at all to decide his answer, he said, "Deal. You ready to ditch this popsicle stand?"

I nodded my head and ran after him, the two of us running down the hallway with laughs emitting from our mouths like we never had before. It was almost euphoric to do something I hadn't been told to do. We sprinted down the hallway, hand in hand, rushing away from any hall guards who may be looking for those trying to skip out early. But that didn't matter to me for some odd reason. There was a rush filling my body and with it, I felt as though I were walking on cloud 9 for the first time—a feeling all people looked for in life I suppose.

Now, while I wasn't sure if it would last or not, I knew one thing and it was that Gerald had no intention of giving up on me. And if that were the case, then I knew I couldn't give up on him.

And _that_ was something I had no aim of doing.

* * *

 _ **Well, that's it folks! thank you for tagging along this story from the beginning and those who came in just recently. means a lot to me for every read and even more for every review. So please, drop me a review and let me know what you have thought of this story and any favorite parts you may have. Please review and let me know!**_

 _ **until next time,**_

 _ **Polka**_


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